Heart of a Thief
by Dragon Sister Kelsi
Summary: Meet Marianne Amour. After a fire killed her parents and sister, she became a thief, stealing to survive. But when her coldhearted aunt and old rival, Frollo's niece, both want her dead, she meets and falls in love with the bellringer of Notre Dame. Can the two outcasts help each other through their darkest times? Takes place before, during, and after the movie
1. Chapter 1

**Heart of a Thief**

**Chapter One**

My mother always used to tell my sister and I one phrase that her mother had told her when she was our age. "Marianne, Noemi, remember, there is some form of darkness in everybody," she'd say to us. "The darkness could be inside of you and you could have no flaws on the outside, yet you are coldhearted and evil. The darkness could be on your face and you could be deformed. The darkness could be in your eyes and you could be blind. Remember that even the most beautiful people can be wicked and could break your heart, and even the most hideous people can be kind and sweet. Always remember that, my dears." And remember I did. That phrase stuck with me through my entire life. I thought of it every day, and it played through my head during my hardest times. And if my mother hadn't told me those words, then I wouldn't be where I was today, and I wouldn't have befriended the man with the ugliest face in Paris.

Before I tell the story of the biggest event in my life that truly changed who I was forever, I need to go back- all the way back. My real story starts twenty-one years before I met the king of fools, the ugliest man in Paris, the hunchback of Notre Dame (he goes by so many names it's hard to keep track). My story begins even before I was born. My story begins on the day my parents met.

My father, Adrien Amour, was a very brave, kindhearted man. He had unusual bright blonde hair, as golden and yellow as the shining sun, making him stick out among the other Parisians, who had darker hair than he did. His eyes were a shade of brown, kind of like a pool of chocolate, always full of life, and he was tall and in good shape. He'd lived in Paris, France his whole life, as had his father and grandfather, and was one of the most respected ministers in Notre Dame cathedral. He spent most of his time in the holy sanctuary praying and preaching to the people of Paris, so much that it was almost like the cathedral was his home. He did have his own house, but was barely ever there.

The thing Adrien loved most about Notre Dame were the bells at the top of the cathedral that rang at the end and beginning of every service, chiming and ringing as they mixed in with the sounds of France, reminding everyone that they were in the beautiful city of Paris and there was a sanctuary that all were welcome to. I've heard my father say many times, "I don't know what I'd do without the bells of Notre Dame." The bells became a big part of my life, as they were a part of everyone else's. But we'll get to that part later.

Enter Antoinette Fleur, a petite, beautiful young woman who had grown up in Paris as well, with her mother and older sister (we'll get to the older sister soon). She had long, dark chocolate brown hair that went just past her shoulder blades, and unusual bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle like emeralds. She was thin, tall, and not to mention absolutely beautiful.

Antoinette wasn't rich, and was incredibly close to being poor. She had just enough to be known as one of France's middle classmen. And how did my mother earn money? By selling flowers. She was a florist, selling roses, daffodils, and other types of beautiful flowers that she had grown from her garden to the people of Paris. She didn't have her own shop, she usually just brought a cart of flowers into the streets and people would buy them there. Like the bells were important to my father, flowers were very important to my mother.

The story of how the two lovebirds met goes like this: it was a warm spring day in Paris, France, almost exactly two years before my birth into the world. Overall, that day was absolutely lovely- well, if you call being chased by a bunch of rough guards lovely, then it was very lovely for my mother. Antoinette Fleur was selling flowers in the busy streets, flowers being bought by men wanting to give them to their wives and lovers, people whose houses needed a bit of color, or people who just liked flowers. So far it had been a typical day for my mother, when a group of gypsies that had been dancing next to her for coins were arrested for "stealing" the money that they had earned. As the gypsies were being handcuffed and pulled away, yelling that they hadn't stole the money, Antoinette spoke up and politely explained to the guards that they hadn't stolen anything. The guards didn't believe her, and were about to arrest her as well, thinking that she was in on the whole stealing thing as well, when my mother made a run for it, going in the direction of Notre Dame.

Every single one of the guards gave chase, letting the gypsies go free as they ran after her. Antoinette was able to avoid them for a few hundred feet and ran right into Notre Dame, where my father had been, praying. Minister Amour looked up, saw Antoinette and the guards running in after her, and hurried over to see what the trouble was. Antoinette called sanctuary right as one guard was reaching out to grab her. The guards ignored the call, and it was Minister Amour who told the guards that they couldn't touch the young woman and asked them to leave, which they did, silently cursing after they left the cathedral. Antoinette thanked Minister Amour and the two introduced each other, and that began their everlasting friendship.

After months and months of seeing each other, the two fell in love and were considering marriage. Since Adrien was a minister in the cathedral, he really wouldn't be able to get married, since ministers usually never leave the cathedral. But Adrien and Antoinette were deeply in love, and instead of believing that Adrien couldn't get married, the lovers confronted the archdeacon of Notre Dame about it.

Now, the archdeacon is a pretty powerful guy. He is not only the main religious leader in all of Paris, but he has political power as well. So do all of the ministers (Minister Frollo has more power than any of the other ministers- a bit too much power is what I think), but overall, the archdeacon has the most power, which includes power over all of the other ministers. When Antoinette and Adrien asked him if they could get married, he could have said no, and he could have said yes. If he said no, then it was no definitely. Remember, the archdeacon had complete power over my father. But the archdeacon, being the kindhearted and understanding man that he is, said yes.

Adrien and Antoinette were married a week later in Notre Dame cathedral, and Antoinette took the last name 'Amour'. The couple built their own house in a small wooded area very close to the cathedral. The house was surrounded by trees, had a small lake behind it, and many kinds of flowers grew there, so Antoinette had many more kinds of flowers to sell and make money from. Overall, they had everything they had ever wanted.

Because he was married and had a house of his own with his wife, Adrien spent less time in Notre Dame and more time at home, but still spent most of his time at the cathedral. Because of this, Antoinette was alone during the day and with her husband in the evening and at night. But Adrien was home even more after Antoinette had a baby, her first child, her first daughter- that's right, me.

The day of my birth was a crazy day, and I've been told the story of it multiple times. On that freezing cold winter day, Minister Amour was in the cathedral while Antoinette was in her house, nine months pregnant, with her older sister, my aunt, Nathalie, who was helping her through her pregnancy.

Now, Nathalie was the most rude yet beautiful woman I'd ever known. She was the first living example I'd seen of the 'different forms of darkness' story that I'd been told countless times by my mother. She was gorgeous- she had white hair with streaks of light blue in it, which was usually in a messy bun; those sparkling emerald green eyes that matched my mother's, and light skin. She was about a foot shorter than Antoinette, but prettier by a wide margin. Well, prettier on the outside. On the inside, she was a complete monster. But how was Nathalie a monster? That will be explained as the story of my life goes on.

Anyway, on with the story of my birth. My father was in the cathedral, worrying to no end, wondering if the baby was going to be born today or tomorrow, this week or next, the baby could even be being born as he was thinking. Suddenly, the archdeacon and Minister Frollo walked in, Frollo looking very upset, mad, and frightened at the same time. The powerful minister was carrying something wrapped in white cloth, and when Minister Amour asked what was going on, Minister Frollo explained that he had found an abandoned baby on the steps of the cathedral and was going to raise it so that it would one day ring the bells of Notre Dame. After quickly leaving and running up the stairs to the bell tower, the archdeacon shook his head and explained the real story- Frollo had ran after a gypsy woman carrying a baby, thinking that she had stolen goods and was going to arrest her. The woman ran to the cathedral, banging on the door, and she had collapsed on the steps of Notre Dame, breaking her neck, and died. As punishment for killing her, Frollo had to take the child and raise it as his own.

The archdeacon explained that the woman had come into the church one day and introduced herself to him. The archdeacon explained that her name was Marianne and that she was pregnant when she had first come to the church, and that child was Marianne's son, her first child, who didn't have a name yet. Minister Amour had to swear on God's name not to tell anyone about Marianne's death, and said a long prayer for her, praying that she'd get into heaven, and prayed that the child would have a good life living in the bell tower.

Suddenly, Nathalie ran into the cathedral, telling Adrien that Antoinette had just gone into labor and was having her child as they spoke. The archdeacon gave Adrien permission to leave the cathedral, and Nathalie and her brother-in-law hurried to the house and ran through the doors just in time to help Antoinette have her baby. A minute or so later, a healthy, beautiful baby girl had been born- me. As Antoinette and Adrien decided on a name for me, Adrien told her wife and sister-in-law the story of Marianne's death and the baby that Frollo had to take care of. Antoinette and Adrien both thought that they should name me Marianne in the woman's honor. So my name became Marianne Amour.

The first year of my life was probably one of the best years of my life. My mother, father, and Aunt Nathalie took great care of me, providing me with not only the things an infant needs to survive, but a large amount of love as well. I was the center of their universe and they made sure to give me as much love as possible. There were many times that my parents brought me to Notre Dame (I was baptized there when I was seven months old, too). The archdeacon would stroke my cheek and say a prayer with my parents that I would have a long life and grow up happy and healthy and with people to love me. The other ministers even saw me and prayed for me.

Well, all except Frollo. "Named in a gypsy's honor," he's say in disgust whenever I came to Notre Dame. "Disgusting, Amour, disgusting. One should never name a child after a filthy person like that."

"Oh yeah, Frollo, and what have you named your son?" my father had foolishly challenged one day.

Frollo just shook his head. "You should know better than to speak like that in this holy place, Amour," he replied. "I've named the little monster 'Quasimodo.' The name suits him." And with that, Frollo went up the stairs to the bell tower.

Quasimodo- it meant 'half formed' or 'almost a person'. "What a cruel name," my father would say to my mother. "That boy's going to grow up thinking he's a monster. Breaks my heart, Antoinette." My mother would stay silent, just thinking of the poor boy and how he would be abused by Frollo growing up. "We must listen to the bells and always remember that they are being played by the boy," my mother would say to my father, smiling amid her sad thoughts, gazing up at the bell tower. She did this for many years of my life, and only now do I really understand why…

* * *

Probably the only thing that I remember from my first year of life was the song my mother sang to me every night when she put me to bed as a lullaby. It was a song that she had written herself one night when I was quickly growing in her belly, and began singing it to me the night I was born. She sang that same song to me every night for the first seven years of my life, and I still remember all of the words to this day. After my mother would carry me to my crib, give me a drink, and cover me with blankets, she would sing that lullaby:

**Hush, my darling, close your eyes**  
**When you awake, the sun will rise**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**  
**Angels, come with me and sing**  
**As the lovely church bells ring**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**

**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**I'll think of your name forever**  
**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**Singing you this song of love**

**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia…**

That song is incredibly important in my life, since it's the song that I fell asleep to for seven straight years. But there will be more of that later.

* * *

At the age of one year and two months, a lot changed for me. I began growing hair on my head (I had my father's striking blonde hair and his chocolaty brown eyes. I basically looked like a female version of my father when he was a baby) and I was getting better at speaking (my first word was 'bell'. Not much of a surprise, since my parents talked about the bells and the bell ringer a lot around me), and walking, normal, everyday things like that. My parents would tell you that I was a very determined baby. I would stand up cautiously, fall down after wobbling over a lot, and then stand up again. I would keep doing this until I was able to stand up on my own for at least a minute without falling, and then get up and try putting one foot in front of the other like all people older than I was did all the time. I wouldn't give up at learning how to do that, and that was where my normal determinedness came from.

Another big thing happened when I was one year and two months old- I got a sibling. My mother gave birth to another healthy baby girl on a chilly day in February. My father was home to see the whole birth process this time, and Aunt Nathalie was with us again, helping my mother out. The infant was smaller than I was when I was born, but wasn't any less healthy. The new baby brought great joy upon my family, but I had no clue what was happening until my father told me, "Mari, you have a baby sister now!" My new baby sister had big, brown eyes, the same color as mine, that looked around the room in wonder, taking in the sight of the world. Aunt Nathalie suggested that her name be Noemi, after Nathalie and Antoinette's mother, Noemi. "Doesn't she remind you of mom, Nettie?" Nathalie asked my mother as she held her new niece. And so my sister became Noemi Amour- and became Nathalie's new favorite niece.

Now, I had absolutely no clue why mom and dad had to have a second child. They gave her a lot of the attention and gave me almost none. But some part of me understood why they had wanted Noemi in their lives, and pretty soon I got used to the infant in my life. Sometimes, I'd even stand by her crib and say, "Soon you're gonna walk and talk like me, Noemi! You're gonna be like me!" And she was exactly like me in that manner. The only thing that was different was her personality. She was a bit shy and not as fearless as I grew up to become. But I was glad that she'd achieved the goal I wanted her to- walking and talking. I didn't care how her personality was. Even if she would have been a cruel, wicked person and she had more darkness in her than anyone else, I would still have loved her with all my heart like I did then.

* * *

**Hello everyone, it's Dragon Sister Kelsi here, and thank you very much for reading the first chapter of 'Heart of a Thief'. This chapter is just a summary of Marianne's parents meeting up to Noemi's birth. I've had the idea for this story in my head for a year or so, and this is the first time I've written it out and edited it! Please review and tell me what you think! Chapter 2 will be up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Hey readers! Dragon Sister Kelsi here, and this is chapter 2 of Heart of a Thief! This story, by the way, is going to be LONG. Probably the longest story I'll ever write, since I have to explain Marianne's past, Marianne's normal life before meeting Quasi, Marianne meeting Quasi, their friendship, etc etc... Well, here's chapter 2! Special thanks to Lady of Myth and Legends for reviewing!**

* * *

By five, I knew of many things. I knew some arithmetic (courtesy of my mother, the best home school teacher ever. Yes, I was home schooled, since real school was completely out of the question, since we weren't able to afford it), how to spell most everyday words, all the ten commandments and simple religious things (my family was very religious, especially my father, and taught me about the bible, God, and heaven, which fascinated me completely), and I knew all about my family members, which was one of the most important things I'd learned. I knew their personalities completely, and I basically could predict what they were going to do next.

My mother had a sweet, loving personality. She was just like the flowers she sold, so fragile, beautiful, and lovely. Just like the rare ones that she sells only once in a blue moon, you can never find another woman that is as kind, gorgeous, and loving as she is. She was married quickly, was single for only the first twenty years of her life. Exactly like rare flowers- they go very quickly, you have to go for them as soon as you see them, or else they'll be snatched up and bought by another customer.

My father was more strict and careful than my mother. He made sure that Noemi and I were learning new things every day and being taught about the bible, spiritual things of the sort. My father was also a big risk taker. He took a risk when asking the archdeacon to marry my mother when the spiritual leader could have said 'absolutely not', and all their jovial thoughts and dreams about marriage would be gone to hell. He took an even bigger risk when my mother became pregnant with me. My birth was a huge conflict with him being a minister and all, and it could have caused him to stop preaching. But Antoinette and Adrien were able to manage my father being at the cathedral most of the time and my mother staying home and taking care of me, so that risk became less of a real 'risk'.

Noemi, my beloved younger sister, was the shyest out of all of us. When meeting someone new, she'd hide behind our mother's leg, wanting the meeting to be over so that that person could leave. She rarely ever left the house out of fear of strangers, and needed my mother and I to convince her to even come to the market with us. Now, I realized, after Noemi turned four, that this was a huge problem. I wanted Noemi to be like me, I wanted her to be determined and brave, but why did she have that shy trait? I had to talk to her.

* * *

After my mother had sung her lullaby to us that night and left the room, blowing the candle out before shutting the door to our bedroom, I sat up in bed and looked at my younger sister. "Noemi?" I asked softly. "Are you awake?"

"Yuh-huh," Noemi whispered in a softer voice then I had used. She went silent, so I continued the conversation.

"Why are you so shy, Noemi?" I asked childishly, getting right to the point. Noemi sat in the darkness and thought about this for a few seconds. "I don't know," she finally said, looking up at me with her big, brown eyes that always sparkled and were full of wonder. Her eyes told me that she was a brave little girl who could take on any challenge. Her real personality told me the exact opposite.

"Well, why are you afraid of new people?" I'd asked, stopping at nothing to find the source of Noemi's shyness. I thought that the answer to this question would be another "I don't know", but her real answer was different than what I had thought.

"Because I'm afraid that they might hurt me," the adorable young girl replied, staring at me, her older sister, her only friend so far in her life.

I shook my head. "They're not gonna hurt you!" I replied in a brave, sisterly tone of voice.

Noemi looked at me with her sparkling, wonderful eyes. "They're not?" she asked, almost believing every word I said.

"Of course not!" I said a bit louder than I'd wanted to, smiling determinedly. "People in Paris will never hurt you, Noemi! Come to the market with mommy and I tomorrow, and if no one hurts you, then I was right! If anyone hurts you, then you're right. But if you're right, I promise, I'll eat my own shoe."

Noemi laughed. Her laughter was always light and cheery, like the sounds of small hand bells ringing, and it made anyone around her smile. I gave a big, proud smile as Noemi asked childishly, "Promise that you'll eat it if I'm right?"

"Yep," I said confidently as I grabbed one of my plain black shoes, the right one, from the floor on the side of my bed. I faced Noemi and stuffed the front part, the area where you put your toes in, into my mouth and I chewed on it like an infant would chew on anything they found. Noemi laughed again, the sound of bells ringing filling the air, and I smiled even more as I put the shoe down.

"But I'm not really going to do that, Noemi, because I'm going to be right," I said in a confident tone of voice. That's another thing about me- I love being right. I feel incredibly dull if I'm wrong, and if I'm right, my confidence and intelligence seems to boost. I guess that being right helps bring my self esteem up.

"How do you know that you're going to be right, Mari?" my younger sister asked me, crossing her arms, trying to be mature and act like a grown-up. The plan failed, and she just looked even cuter than before.

"Because no one has ever hurt mommy or me when we've been outside," I explained to my sister, laying back down in bed, pulling the soft covers over my body. "And I promise that they won't hurt you. Trust me, Noemi. If you trust me, then nothing will be bad in your life, and you'll live to be an old lady!"

Noemi smiled, taking comfort in the fact that I would never let anything bad happen to her. She saw me back in bed and she lay down as well. "Are we going to go to sleep now, Mari?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Yes," I replied.

"Can you sing mommy's song to me?" Noemi asked innocently. I smiled. By now I had memorized all of the words of our mother's lullaby, and I wanted my chance to sing them to my younger sister.

"Sure," I said, smiling even bigger. "Here I go." I took a deep breath and sang, just for my sister:

**Hush, my darling, close your eyes**  
**When you awake, the sun will rise**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**  
**Angels, come with me and sing**  
**As the lovely church bells ring**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**

**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**I'll think of your name forever**  
**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**Singing you this song of love**

**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia…**

When I finished the song, Noemi's eyes were closed and she was sleeping soundly. I smiled, proud that I had put my little sister to sleep all by myself, and closed my eyes, trying to get to sleep as well. That experience seemed to strengthen the bond I had with my sister. By then, we knew that nothing could get in the way of our friendship. Our bond was strong and it seemed that we would never be able to separate, ever…

* * *

Flash forward one year. I was six years old and bored. And what would a normal six year old do when they're bored? Cause trouble. And I was all for causing trouble at that age. So I ventured out the door and around the backyard to the many acres of land around our house, a grassy field with multiple ponds, flowers scattered about, and tall trees everywhere. There was the perfect balance of shade and sunlight, the best amount of flowers and trees. The land around our house was like something you would see on a fancy vacation on a tropical island (I have never seen a tropical island, but I've heard many stories about their beaches, tall trees that grew fruits called coconuts, and most of all the beautiful, exotic flowers that grew there).

I began wandering around, looking at all of the gorgeous flowers that decorated the grassy ground and all of the strong trees that were scattered about, admiring nature and the beautiful things that God had made and put in our land. After about ten minutes, I came to a strong tree that stood smack in the middle of the field, overlooking a small pond in which the water was so clean that I could clearly see my reflection in it, my cute face looking back at me. For a few minutes, I just looked at myself in the glassy water of the small pond. It was then that I realized how much I had grown since I was only a few years old and how, well, pretty I looked. My skin was a peachy light color, tanned a bit by the sun, the perfect color for my flesh. My eyes, my "windows into my soul" as my father called them, had started to become more of a peculiar deep bronze color than brown, like a rusty bell, worn out from ringing for so many years.

And my hair- oh, that was the most amazing thing about me! My hair, falling all the way to my small hips, wasn't all straight and perfectly combed and gorgeous like that, my hair was choppy, thick bunches of it cut up at different places and hanging all over the place, so wide that it looked a bit comical and unreal. My mother said that I just had a lot of layers in my hair, but if I had layers or not, I didn't care. The weird bunches of hair that were cut up at different places and stuck out, looking like a sea of gold in which there were many jagged waves, only made me unique. I hadn't found a single girl in Paris that had hair like I did, and I wanted it to stay that way.

After admiring myself in the glassy water of the small pond for a few minutes, I began to get bored again (you'll find that when I was younger, I got incredibly bored very quickly, and I had to be constantly entertained). I turned to the tree, so tall and mighty, with its trunk that was three times thicker than I was and strong branches on which gorgeous dark green leaves grew, all a different shape and size. I was immediately reminded of something that my mother had said to me while I was helping her pick flowers one day. "We are all like leaves, Marianne," the beautiful woman said while stroking a single leaf on the tree closest to where we stood. "We are bound and connected to something- a tree, in this case. We may all look and seem the same from a distance, but when you look closely, you'll see that we're all unique." She then pulled two leaves off of the tree, both shaped like the paw prints of a raccoon, and showed them to me, holding them up to her chest. "Do they look the same to you?" she'd asked, smiling.

I nodded. "They're shaped the same," I replied, wondering where my mother was getting at.

The woman shook her head and gave me the two leaves. "Look at them closely, Marianne, and you'll see that they're different at a second glance," she said. I squinted and held the leaf up to my eye. It was then that I noticed that the leaves' veins were different. The leaf on the right had thicker veins that stuck out to me, while the leaf on the left had veins that were way thinner.

"Oh!" I said, handing the leaves back to my mother. "I get it now!"

And so I stood there, remembering what my mother had said as I looked at the leaves, all different in their own special ways. I looked down at my left wrist, where a bit of my blue veins were showing. They seemed to make an 'N' formation, and then branch out from there. I smiled, wondering if there was anyone in all of France that had that in their veins.

If leaves were all different, then maybe trees were all different as well, each one having a different feature that made them special, different from the rest of the trees in the world. I immediately knew that this was correct, since I'd never before seen two trees that were exactly alike (well, I hadn't seen the whole world, I hadn't even seen all of France, but you know what I'm getting at). Trees were much bigger than leaves, and their differences and flaws were much easier to point out. Maybe this tree had different kinds of leaves on it, or maybe branches unlike any other tree? Yes, I was sure that the branches were different. This one mighty tree had branches unlike any other tree's branches I had seen, so thick and strong, it was like they could support a child-

My eyes widened and filled with mischievousness. Immediately, I jumped onto the tree, hugging it with my legs and arms. My bare feet dug into the bark of the tree while I used my hands to pull myself up. Every time I went a little higher, I felt a new burst of excitement go through me, like I was an explorer, climbing a huge mountain for the first time, about to set a world record. I had gone about four feet up before I realized what I was doing. I was _climbing a tree_. A small, six year old girl like me, with gorgeous skin, eyes, and hair, looking like she'd just want to stay on the ground and do girly things, was _climbing a tree_. I smiled, a look of confidence and happiness coming onto my face. _Climbing a tree_! I was doing it!

I think that might have been one of the happiest moments of my entire life, a moment that I would remember for years and years to come. The simple joy of climbing a tree for the first time.

* * *

**And... chapter OVER! **

**Yeah, the 'climbing a tree' thing will be continued in chapter three (which I'm actually editing right now and I want to get up this week. I may not get it up tomorrow, since I'm so incredibly BUSY tomorrow). It's actually a very important event in Marianne's life that will be significant throughout the story. So is the part where Marianne says that if Noemi trusts her, she'll have a long life.**

**Spoiler alert, you guys may cry in chapter five, six, or seven (whenever I can get the overly sad part in)...**

**Another spoiler alert, Marianne isn't going to be a goody two shoes, or even be a good girl in the whole story. She has a bad girl side. A HUGE bad girl side. So before you think that Marianne's going to be all happy and a good girl and stuff in this story, then think again...**

**Well, that's all, BYE! And please type a review in the text below!**

**P.S: Should I have more songs in this story? Like, have my OCs sing songs that aren't actually from HoND? I'm thinking that I'm going to, and have Marianne sing a lot, but I want to see what my readers think!**

**Bye for real this time!**

**~Dragon Sister Kelsi**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Thank you for reading chapters one and two of HOAT, and now, here's chapter three! Yeah, I wrote this awhile ago (I just started writing chapter 6), and I want to get you all caught up with myself... Another important chapter! The first 7-10 chapters are actually going to explain Marianne's past before she actually meets Quasi at age 19, and then all hell's gonna break loose and I can go crazy with this story :). For now, we're focusing on Marianne's childhood. Well, here's the chapter!**

* * *

Now, climbing the tree was the easiest part, but what about getting _down_? This question came upon me when I had gone around six and a half feet off the ground and I had crawled onto a strong, thick branch and was sitting on it, admiring the sight of our plot of land from this high off the ground. Everything looked beautiful. I was able to point out where all the lakes were, the small stream that ran through our yard, and the flowers looked even more beautiful from up here.

When I started getting hungry for lunch, smelling the soup that my mother was making for Noemi and I, I leaned to the right and swung my legs over, expecting that I could just drop down easily and run into the house. Then I looked down and gulped.

Oh right. I was _six feet off the ground. In a tree that I had just climbed._

I started to think of things I could do to get down. I could jump down and hope to fall on another branch, but looking down, there didn't seem to be any other branches under me. I could grab the tree and slide down, or just do what I did coming up but reversed. That seemed like a good idea. But then I thought of all of the things that could go _wrong_- I could hit the ground and break my ankle. I could hit the ground and break both my ankles. I could break every single bone in my body! I began shaking with fear. When I climbed this tree, I didn't realize that I'd have to get down somehow.

I decided that I'd just grab the trunk of the tree and slide down, hoping for the best. I started to stand up and carefully make my way to the trunk, wobbling a bit out of fear-

"_Aaah_!" I screamed as I fell from the branch, expecting to hit the ground and fall to my possible death. Instead, I reached out my arms, hoping to grab the branch and possibly pull myself up. It worked- I was dangling from the branch by my arms, my hands gripping the branch for my life.

"Well this is just _great_!" I exclaimed, sighing and shaking my head as my body shook with fear. I knew I was going to fall and probably break a bone, maybe I would break my neck and die, like the woman I was named after did on the steps of the cathedral.

That woman… My head filled with thoughts of her. She was just trying to protect her baby, and that idiot Frollo had_ killed her_! Made her fall and break her neck! "Oh, God, please let me not meet the same fate as Marianne did on that winter night!" I said softly, refusing to look down. I looked around, spotting the trees all around me, and one smaller tree that was only a few feet away from the tree I was hanging in… That was it!

If I was able to swing from this branch and possibly grab a branch on the other tree, I could easily drop down from there! That tree was much smaller than this one, and if I jumped and grabbed one of the lower branches, I could easily slide down from the trunk on the tree. It was a big risk- a huge risk, actually, but did Adrien Amour not take as big of a risk when asking the archdeacon if he could marry my mother? Did he not take as big of a risk when my mother had me, his first child?… Okay, so maybe that was less of a risk than this risk, but still. My father was a big risk taker, and I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to risk it all, and get my way in the end.

I had to hurry, because my hands were getting blisters all over them and getting sweaty, beginning to slip from the branch. "Here I go," I said softly. "Please let me make this jump, God, please!" After my quick prayer, I began rocking my body forward and backwards until I was swinging, the air moving me around and doing the work for me. "One, two, three!" I exclaimed, and let go of the branch.

I was basically flying forward, and in that moment- all time seemed to slow down immensely, and it was just me, flying like a bird, my arms above my head, and I completely forgot that if I didn't make this jump, I'd hurt myself or even die. I felt so… free. Limitless. There was nothing that I couldn't do in that moment. During that second, I finally realized what freedom is. What it means to have no limits. What it means to be me, Marianne Amour.

I came back to reality when I felt my arms hitting something that felt like bark, and I immediately dug my nails into it as I opened my eyes. I was in a completely different place than I was before. I quickly turned my head and saw the tree I had been in before behind me- I had done it! "_Yessss_," I muttered, giving myself a smile of victory. I looked down, seeing a branch below me that I could easily drop down to. But then I looked up, seeing another tree on an angle in front of me, a branch that I could easily swing to. I smiled, beginning to swing myself, and jumped, the feel of freedom against my skin.

I spent a good fifteen minutes swinging from branch to branch, flying around the land, feeling like a bird, limitless, free…

"And just what do you think _you're_ doing, young lady!?"

The voice made me snap out of my feeling of freedom and open my eyes, coming back to reality. There, standing right in front of the tree that I had just jumped onto, was Aunt Nathalie. She wore a white blouse with sleeves that stopped at her elbows, and a dark blue skirt that went up to her ankles, the fabric so thick and heavy that it didn't move with the wind like the skirts and dresses that my mother wore. Her white, blue streaked hair was up in a messy bun, loose hairs sticking out all over the place, slightly leaning to the right side of her head (her right, my left). White hair would have made any other woman seem old, but it just made Nathalie look younger and more beautiful on the outside.

I saw anger in her face and in her emerald green eyes that always seemed to glare right into my soul, like two emerald colored knives slowly cutting me up, one piece of flesh at a time, striking fear into my heart. The world all of a sudden went cold and I felt less free than ever. Whenever I was near Nathalie, everything got colder, like she had ice in her soul and was responsible for the snow and cold days in winter, and it always felt like she was chaining me down, keeping me from being free.

"Um, uh, n-n-nothing, auntie Nathalie!" I said, feeling like her emerald colored eyes were slowly chaining me down with every second she looked at me. I jumped to the branch below me and from there jumped onto the ground.

"Child, it_ looked_ like you were doing something," Nathalie said to me, continuing to glare at me, and I suddenly felt freezing cold. "You were swinging from branch to branch like some _wild animal_!"

"Auntie, I'm sorry!" I stuttered. _Odd_. Whenever I was near anyone else, I could speak fine, but around Nathalie, I stuttered, simply out of fear that she'd hurt me. Or was it fear of something else?

"You could have been hurt, child, _hurt_," Nathalie explained harshly, more cold coming off of her than ever. "Do you know what that means?"

"Y-yes, auntie," I said, avoiding eye contact with her. "I do."

"What does it mean then, dear?" my aunt asked. Was she _kidding_, trying to humiliate me like that!? I should have said something, but instead, I just replied, "It means pain, emotionally or physically," in a voice no bigger than a whisper.

_"Good,"_ Nathalie replied, smiling devilishly, her ruby red lips curving._ God, I feared her back then_.

"My dear niece, when you are old enough, maybe eighteen or so, your mother, father and I will have you married off to a handsome lad in exchange for money, and a lot of it, too," Nathalie replied, still glaring at me, speaking in a softer yet more poisoned tone of voice. "No man is going to want to take you if you go hopping around, swinging on trees like a beast."

"N-no, Auntie Nathalie," I replied, looking at my shoes. If I'd had the guts back then, I would have strangled her.

"You must become more ladylike, Marianne, or else you'll_ never_ be able to take a husband," my aunt continued, speaking in her usual stuck up, snobby tone of voice. "You can't survive in this day and age if you can't get married, now can you?"

"But you aren't married, auntie!" I replied, daring to look into my coldhearted aunt's sharp, dagger-like eyes. I immediately looked back down, the feeling of fear coming over me again.

"_I_," Nathalie replied in a more furious tone, "am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, are too fragile and weak to take care of yourself."

By then, crystal colored tears were forming in my eyes at the rudeness of my aunt. "Auntie," I muttered, shaking my head, not believing that she'd say those things to me.

"Come inside, Marianne, lunch is ready," Nathalie said to me, completely ignoring my tears. "Goodness, why can't you be more like your sister?"

The words hit me like a flying knife that I didn't know was coming at me. More like _Noemi_? Noemi was a sensitive, sweet girl! She wouldn't_ dare_ try and climb a tree and swing from branch to branch like me. I didn't want to be like her, I wanted _her to be like me,_ just so that she would be able to experience the joy and the freedom that comes with swinging from branch to branch, soaring like an untamed, wild bird. I wouldn't _dare_ try and be more like her.

I was completely silent as we walked into the house, wiping my tears away so that my mother wouldn't worry about me and think that Nathalie was being rude to me. Well,_ she was_, but the point was that I didn't want Nathalie getting even more mad at me for getting my mother to blame her for something that she didn't want anyone to know about.

* * *

That night, I opened the only window in my bedroom, which was on the first floor of the house, and snuck out of my room, running into the yard. The moonlight was enough to help me see as I climbed the tallest tree, dangled from the branch that was about six and a half feet off the ground, and swung from branch to branch, the night air against my skin making me feel free. For some reason, I felt even more free when I knew that Nathalie was asleep, in her bedroom, and couldn't hurt me at all…

* * *

It was at the age of seven, about eight months after my swinging from branch to branch incident, that I met one person that would basically change my life forever- no, not the hunchback, I met him years later. I mean someone who taught me what it means to have a friend. One of my best friends in the world.

I was helping my mother run errands around the market, which was busy as usual. Many shopkeepers had set up some of their things around the market, boxes of fruits and vegetables set up, stands with jewelry and dresses put out for customers to buy. I was clutching my mother's hand, and she was holding mine. "Hold onto my hand, Marianne, so you don't get lost in that big crowd of people," my mother had said as we had entered the market. "We love you too much to lose you." Right. All except Nathalie.

We came across a less crowded part of the market, and I spotted people I had never seen before. There, dancing on the street corner, were two young girls, looking around my age. One of them looked like she was a year or two older than I was. She had long, dark colored, wavy hair that went down to her shoulders, held up by a purple headband. Her peculiar emerald green eyes reminded me of my mother's, sparkling and bursting with life, seeming to dance more than she did. The girl had skin that matched my eyes, a shade of bronze, like a bell that was rusting a bit from ringing too much over the years. Her lips were thin, giving a big smile as she danced. The girl wore a white blouse and a dark bronze skirt, made out of a light material, so it flowed in the wind and moved with her as she danced. Her feet were completely bare, touching the dusty ground, but not getting dirty at all.

The other girl looked like she could be my age or a bit younger than I was. The girl had skin a slightly lighter shade of bronze than my eyes were, and her eyes were such a dark, dull, unlively mud color that you would have thought they were pitch black, like the sky on a night without a moon. Her hair was much shorter than the other girl's, only going up to her chin and stopping abruptly there. She wore a white blouse that matched the other girl's, but their skirts were completely different. This girl wore a blue colored, incredibly short skirt that only went up to halfway down her thighs, and was made of a heavy material so that the skirt wouldn't move up at all when she twirled or jumped (smart idea to make that skirt with that thick fabric).

"You stay here, Marianne, I'm just going to go look at the fruits," mother told me. "Promise you won't leave this spot?"

I nodded, getting excited that my mother had decided to trust me with staying by myself in a busy market like this one. "I promise," I said to my mother, with such confidence in my voice. My mother smiled and bent down, kissing my forehead, and then went off, disappearing through the large crowd of people. Little did I know, I was about to make both a friend that would stick with me forever, and an enemy that would stay and linger over me throughout my life…

* * *

**Okay, so, how'd you like it? Next chapter, we meet Marianne's new BFFL, La Esmeralda (is it spelled Esmerelda or Esmeralda?), and Frollo's bratty niece. All three play important roles in this story... Just a quick, announcement, this story shall be LONG. Like, probably 20-30 chapters minimum...**

**Please leave a review in the box down there! Thanks, and have a great day! Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Okay, the reason this took me forever is that I've been very busy with school and tests and etc... But now I'm BACK!**

**There will be some Quasimodo in the fifth chapter, but in chapter four, we will introduce Frollo's niece, Esmeralda, and Marianne's new friend. Also, there will be some persecution of gypsies in this chapter, so be prepared to tear up a bit...**

* * *

"Hi," I heard a soft, sweet, female voice say. I turned to see someone I'd never seen before standing in front of me, definitely not one of the girls that had been dancing. I saw a young girl that looked about my age. This girl was much different, and overall much more beautiful. The first thing that I noticed about her was her hair. It was the color of midnight, the color of the feathers on a blackbird, the color of pure darkness. Her hair looked unbelievably silky, and was perfectly combed and straight, flowing down to her hips like a smooth, steady, un-choppy waterfall, unlike my choppy, layered, bunched up hair. Her eyes were completely gray, like the moon struggling to be seen behind a dark cloud; her skin a light shade of apricot. She wore a simple, peachy pink dress on which the sleeves went down to her wrists and the bottom of the dress stopped at her ankles. Overall, she was probably the prettiest girl that was my age that I'd ever seen in my life. But that was just on the outside.

"Hi!" I greeted, a bit more enthusiastically. This girl was most likely trying to make friends with me.

"I'm Valentine," the girl said, giving me a smile with her perfectly shaped lips. It seemed that everything about her was completely perfect. "Valentine _Frollo_."

"_Frollo_?" I asked. "Isn't he a minister in Notre Dame?" Could they possibly be related?

Valentine smiled, looking like she was about to start boasting about Frollo. "Oh, _yes_," she replied, smiling bigger. "Claude Frollo is my uncle. But I'll tell you more about that later. What's your name?"

I smiled, glad that this girl wasn't a 'brag about your power crazy uncle' kind of girl. "Marianne Amour," I answered. "My daddy's a minister in Notre Dame, too."

"Oh yeah!" Valentine said. "Minister Amour!" Immediately, her look of happiness flooded from her face. "I've heard about you, Marianne. Uncle Claude says that you were named after a_ gypsy_ woman." She said the word 'gypsy' in disgust, like she couldn't stand them, like they were ugly creatures that all needed to be destroyed.

The girls next to us immediately stopped dancing and looked at Valentine with looks of anger on their faces, listening to our conversation. I honestly didn't know where to go from there. "Um,_ yeah_, I was," I replied softly, feeling weak. "She broke her neck on the steps of Notre Dame, and mommy and daddy named me after her in her honor."

Valentine laughed. Immediately, I felt pain in my eardrums and fury welling up inside me. Now, let me say something about Valentine Frollo's laugh. It is the worst and most painful sound in the world. Her laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard, a weird, eardrum hurting screech that echoed around and made everyone within a five foot radius stop and put their hands over their ears. It made you know that this girl was trouble and that she was no good to be around. I put my hands over my ears at the sound of her obnoxious, hideous laughter, filling the air and causing me pain. I wanted it to stop immediately, because it was hurting me on the outside and on the inside.

"Marianne, what _honor_ are you talking about?!" Valentine said through her horrible, horrible laughter. "Gypsies_ have_ no honor! They are horrible, hateful creatures that need to be _killed off_! They're just a bad thing for all of the people of France, and they need to be dealt with!"

I widened my eyes at the rudeness and cruelty of Valentine's words. "That's so mean!" I could only exclaim, telling myself not to start crying.

"Hey!" a voice yelled. Valentine and I turned to see the two young girls that had been dancing, looking right at Valentine. The smaller girl, the one who looked about my age, had tears in her eyes, streaming down her face. The older one had fury and anger in her eyes, that were only sparkling much faster and brighter now that she was mad, which anyone would be able to tell that she was.

"Gypsies are _not_ a bad thing!" the older girl yelled at Valentine. Did I see her lip quivering when she spoke?

Valentine laughed again, this time more obnoxiously, the nails on a chalkboard sound going through the air and into my head, banging on my eardrums. "Yes they are!" Frollo's niece said as she laughed, her moon-behind-a-cloud colored eyes staring right at the girl, like daggers piercing the girl's soul. "They're nothing but bloodsucking, evil creatures! Isn't that right, _gypsies_?" I looked from the two girls to Valentine. The girls were gypsies? I had no clue of that!

At Valentine's words, the older girl looked completely shocked and offended, her lips quivering, tears threatening to form and spill. The younger girl was already crying, clinging onto the older girl, soft whimpers coming from her mouth. "You know," Valentine said, seeming like a wolf about to pounce on its prey, "Uncle Claude could have you two_ arrested_ for questioning my _authority_."

Okay, I'd had enough of this. It was my time to speak up. "What _authorit_y?" I asked, making Valentine turn and stare at me. Right as Valentine opened her mouth to continue, I began to yell, "You're the meanest, most snobby person I have ever _met_, Valentine, and you don't even _deserve_ authority!_ You're_ the bloodsucking evil one!"

Valentine gasped, tears forming in her eyes. "You're so_ mean_!" she exclaimed, tears silently spilling from her eyes. "I hate you, Marianne Amour!_ I hate you_!" And like that, she ran away in tears. At that moment, I felt powerful and good. I had just helped these two girls out, and I felt great about it.

"You're pretty brave," the older girl said to me, smiling, wiping her tears away. The younger girl was smiling as well, letting go of the older girl's arm. "No one stands up to a relative of Frollo's, no one!"

"Well, I wanted to help you two out," I said, smiling. "I don't think that anyone should be treated that way. It's just plain mean!"

The younger girl nodded. "Thank you, um, Marianne," the younger girl said, smiling at me. I widened my eyes and smiled at the sight of her, smiling, without tears in her eyes. She looked so happy that I had come and defended her and the other girl. And the way she said my name, in a cute, young voice, seemed almost angelic.

"I'm Esmeralda," the older girl said, holding out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Marianne!" I shook her hand smiling.

"Nice to meet you, too!" I said, unable to take in everything that had happened in the past minute. I was both making friends and had defended someone from Frollo's niece. This all had to be a dream.

"And I'm Ciel!" the younger girl said enthusiastically. Ciel… it meant 'Sky' in French. At first, the word didn't describe this girl, but I knew that after getting to know her more, I'd find out why she'd been named Ciel. I stuck out my hand and Ciel put her hand in mine, her touch very soft and gentle, and we shook hands. I looked from Esmeralda to Ciel, smiling. No words came to my head at that moment, for I was secretly overwhelmed by everything that was happening…

* * *

The next couple years, I got to know Ciel a lot better. She'd come over my house to talk, and we'd talk about our lives, sharing stories with each other. I told her about my father being a minister and the story of Marianne, the woman I was named after, and Ciel told me about living in a place called the 'Court of Miracles', which was basically a safe haven for all gypsies and friends of gypsies, and her relationship with her older sister, Esmeralda.

"Our parents died when I was very little," Ciel told me sadly one day when we were nine years old as we sat on my bed, clutching pillows in our arms as we shared stories with each other. "Nobody's sure how it happened, but I heard from one of the older gypsies that my mother was burned alive for witchcraft, and my father died from a sickness, which came from all his sadness over my mother's death."

"Oh_, Ciel_," I said, sadness washing over me. "That's so sad. I'm so sorry." What more could I say? This girl lost her parents at a very early age, and I had parents to love me and care for me. I felt unbelievably lucky at that moment.

"No, no, it's okay," Ciel said, her lips forming a fake, sad smile. "You don't have to say sorry. I mean, I lost them when I was so young that I couldn't remember, so I really never felt any sadness over their deaths." I glared at her lips. That smile wasn't a smile at all. It was a mask, covering her true sadness.

"Stop smiling," I snapped at her. Her smile faded and she gave me a questioning look. "You can't smile over someone's death. You just can't." I sighed. "I'm sorry, but-"

"I understand," the gypsy replied. She shrugged and continued, "Anyway, Esmeralda has been taking care of me basically my whole life. She's my sister, my best friend, and she's also like a mother to me. The other gypsies take care of us, too. We're all one big family in the Court of Miracles." She smiled again, but not over something sad this time. "That's why I love the Court of Miracles. Everyone's kind, and there's no one to hurt us just because we're gypsies."

* * *

Being friends with Ciel had taught me a big thing- that gypsies are completely misunderstood. Most people blame their normal, everyday problems on them, and the gypsies only have each other, with no one to defend them and stick up for them. One of the biggest gypsy haters was- you guessed it- Judge Claude Frollo. The name even sounds revolting! Now, I'd known about Frollo before. My father would talk about how horrible he was nearly every day when he would be home. "That man," he'd say to my mother, "does not deserve to have anything to do with the church. He is a cruel old man who misunderstands those poor people and hurts them just because they're gypsies. He's horrible, Antoinette, horrible!" I'd never understood what he meant by that, but after being around Ciel for a few years, I'd begun to completely understand.

Claude Frollo, the minister with that huge, funny hat on his head, the crooked nose that made me giggle, riding around on his dark colored horse like he owned everything, hated gypsies with all of his heart. And I'm not saying that he hated them and that's it. I mean that he hates them so much that he'll actually arrest them for every little thing that they do and even kill them. He's killed countless gypsies, and I've actually seen him riding around and arresting them, saying that they're 'no good' and 'evil creatures' that 'need to be wiped off of this Earth'. Whenever Ciel and I were walking around and saw that, tears would form in Ciel's dark brown eyes and her hands would be clenched in fists of rage. I'd just watch, eyes widened in shock and fear, and my body shaking.

Sometimes we'd even see gypsies being whipped or burnt alive in public. A week or so after Ciel had talked to me about her family and Esmeralda taking care of her, in the public square in front of Notre Dame where festivals, such as the Festival of Fools, were held, Ciel and I saw a teenage gypsy on a stage in a simple white dress, bound to a long, wooden pole by ropes, with a pile of wood underneath her. She had long dark brown hair, down to the bottom of her shoulder blades, and big, purple eyes (purple? I'd never before seen a woman with purple eyes) that were wide in fear and horror. Her skin was a bronze color, like almost every gypsy's skin was colored, and overall, she looked absolutely gorgeous, yet incredibly afraid. A gigantic crowd was around the stage, guards holding people off. I heard shouts of, "Let her go!" and "She's done nothing wrong!" throughout the crowd, and when I saw Frollo on the stage, holding a scroll, I knew what was going to happen- this teenage gypsy was going to be burnt alive.

Ciel and I had been standing on the steps of Notre Dame as we watched. We had both realized that the girl was going to be burnt to death, and were crying, tears streaming down our faces, staining our cheeks. Ciel looked both upset and furious. "That's Magnifique!" she exclaimed in horror. "Oh my goodness, her poor _sister_! Her poor_ parents_! She didn't do anything wrong, Marianne, really!" She continued sobbing as I put an arm around her, comforting her.

"It's okay, Ciel," I said, trying to be a source of comfort, but instead ended up crying as well as Frollo came onto the stage, reading the scroll, explaining that this gypsy girl, Magnifique, has committed the crime of using witchcraft, and her punishment was to be burnt at the stake.

"NO!" Ciel screamed after this was announced, along with the several other people around the stage, protesting. Magnifique was screaming and crying, looking a mess, her eyes getting red from her tears of pain. I knew, deep down inside, that those would be the last tears to fall from her eyes.

This was horrible. I needed to do something about this. _Someone_ needed to do something about this.

* * *

**How'd you like it? Please leave a review saying what you liked and disliked about this chapter! Chapter five will be up soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Long time, no see! Hahaha!... Well, I'm back with chapter five. I'm actually halfway done with chapter eight, so let me give you a brief idea of what the upcoming chapters are:**

**Chapter 5****- Rest of Magnifique at the stake, Quasimodo comes in!**

**Chapter 6****- Bonding between Nathalie and Noemi, more on Valentine Frollo**

**Chapter 7****- More death, Ciel gets banished**

**Chapter 8****- The Night of the Dark Fire**

**And here's what I think chapters 9 and 10 will be:**

**Chapter 9****- Discovery of Lierre's Haven, introducing Isaac Beau and Destin Copain**

**Chapter 10****- Goodbye to Miss Amour!**

**So, yeah... Here's chapter five!**

* * *

I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder. Ciel and I both turned around, still sobbing, and saw my father, his familiar and comforting brown eyes looking down at us, anger obvious in his face. I knew he wasn't angry at us, but at the other minister for doing this to an innocent. "Stay here," my father said to us. "Ciel, Marianne, I'm going to try and fix this." He ran up to the stage, pushing people out of his way. Some saw his formal robes and moved aside, knowing that he was of religious importance, others refused to move or didn't see him and he had to move them out of the way. When my father got to the stage, he walked right up to Frollo, grabbed the scroll out of his hand, and yelled at him.

Now, I'd never seen my father this mad before. His fury and anger just scared me and made me cry even harder. Ciel, on the other hand, was wiping her tears away, out of the possibility that my father would save Magnifique's life. Minister Amour and Minister Frollo argued, screaming at each other, each trying to tell the other their own message. Minister Amour was trying to get Frollo to let Magnifique go and that she did nothing wrong at all. Minister Frollo was refusing to let the young gypsy go, and that we must rid gypsies from our lives.

After who knows how long, my father stormed off stage, his face red with fury and came to us. Frollo was on the stage, walking to Magnifique as my father picked Ciel and I up, each of us in one arm, and held us. "That rotten _bastard_," I heard him mutter. My eyes widened. My father never cursed, _especially_ near Notre Dame, but I understood why he cursed at this particular moment. I wanted to curse as well because of what was happening. The horrible thing that was happening right in front of my eyes.

"Any last words,_ gypsy girl_?" I heard Frollo demand, about a foot away from Magnifique, and everyone went silent. It seemed that the whole world had gone quiet then, waiting for Magnifique's last words, the last words that she'd ever say in her life.

"_Yes_," Magnifique replied silently and innocently, in a voice that sounded like the sound of a bird twittering, the first sound a baby bird makes after it hatches from the egg it had been in for so long. Her voice sounded like the sounds of rebirth, the sounds of a new beginning. But for her, this was only the end.

"I'd like to say," Magnifique began in a strong voice, "that when I am dead, you all have to stop this! My people being_ killed_ because of who they are is just _madness_! You all need to get rid of this man _once and for all_ before my people are wiped off the face of the_ Earth_!"

As I listened to her speak, it was like the only thing happening at that point was her speaking her last words. Magnifique, tied to a stake, yelling at the world for this happening, telling everyone what she wants for this world, was the only thing happening. "You all have put up with this for _TOO LONG_! When I am dead, I want all this to be _OVER_! This should be the last death he has caused! And when I am dead, you will all remember this day as the day of Magnifique's death, the day that sparked a rebellion against the wickedness of this man! _REMEMBER ME_!"

Frollo, looking like he'd had enough of this girl's yelling, grabbed a torch, already lit, and threw it into the pile of wood. "Look away, girls," my father quickly ordered us, holding us close to him. I buried my face in his chest and Ciel turned to face the cathedral, her face in her hands. We both silently cried as we heard Magnifique screaming, "REMEMBER ME!" through her last tears, the last words she'd ever say, her last request to the people of Paris. Suddenly, I heard my father's voice, strong and loud, yelling, "May God bless you, Magnifique!"

Everything stopped for a few seconds as everyone took in what had been said by the minister, the only person who dared to speak, let alone say those words. A sudden voice from the crowd broke the silence. "May God bless you, Magnifique!" it yelled. Soon, every second or two, a person from the crowd yelled those five words to the teenage gypsy, who was crying harder, knowing that people wanted God to bless her. She was crying, I was crying, my father was crying, everyone was crying. Those words were repeated by almost everyone in the crowd, and it kept going until I knew she was dead and her cries of sadness and pain had stopped, never to be heard again. Her suffering had ended forever. My father quickly brought us into the cathedral, where we cried in his arms until it seemed that tears were completely unable to come out of our eyes anymore.

My father set us down as soon as soon as we stopped crying. I took a good look at his face, full of pure anger. I'd never seen him this angry before. I knew why, though. He was mad at Frollo for doing that to an innocent gypsy girl. "_Horrible,_ just _horrible,_" he was muttering. Then, he walked off to the other side of the sanctuary, leaving Ciel and I standing together in sadness.

"How could he do that?!" Ciel yelled, not realizing that we were in a church and needed to be quieter. "That horrible man!" There was a catch in her voice, like she was going to start crying again and those clear, slow tears were going to start forming in her dark brown eyes. The tears that I hated so much to see in her eyes.

"_Ciel_," I said, comforting her. "Let's… let's say a prayer for Magnifique." And so we did. We knelt in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary and prayed for Magnifique, praying that she'd get into heaven and that her words would be remembered. Her very last words, "Remember me", echoed inside me, bouncing off the walls of my head. And remember her I would.

After we said our prayer and ended it off with "Amen", we stood up, looking into the eyes of the statue of Mary. She looked strong, like she was a leader and would free her people from dark things that were going to happen. I shook my head in sadness. We needed a Mary in Paris. Someone that was kindhearted and that the Lord could touch, making her become pregnant with a savior. _A savior_. We needed a savior right about then.

Before I knew it, my young, adorable, gentle singing voice was flooding the cathedral and I was singing my mother's lullaby. Singing it for Magnifique, as if her soul was lingering inside Notre Dame and she wanted to be sung to before descending into heaven.

**Hush, my darling, close your eyes**  
**When you awake, the sun will rise**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**

Ciel looked at me. There _wasn't_ confusion in her face, but sadness and understanding. She knew why I was singing- it was for Magnifique. A song to honor her by. I began walking around the cathedral, looking at all the candles, lit with flame. I began to walk away from them. The candles were lit with fire. Fire was what had killed Magnifique, what had caused her to leave the Earth for eternity. What Frollo had killed countless people with. The thing that lights up our world, and can also destroy our world.

**Angels, come with me and sing**  
**As the lovely church bells ring**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**

As I sang, I heard soft footsteps entering the cathedral. I quickly looked around. I saw no one but Ciel, standing near me, looking uncomfortable and incredibly upset. The footsteps were too soft to be an adult's, so I figured that a child was coming. Maybe they were being attracted by my voice. The footsteps continued and I began to walk towards the sound, which was a few feet ahead of me. As I walked, I continued singing, realizing that Ciel had joined in with me, our voices in harmony with each other, intertwining like rope being perfectly braided.

**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**I'll think of your name forever**  
**I love you**  
**I love you**  
**Singing you this song of love**

I reached an opening in the wall and looked in, realizing that they led to a flight of stairs. My father had once told me that they led to the bell tower, where the bell ringer of Notre Dame lived. The bell ringer… I had been told many stories about him, how he had been forced to be taken in by Frollo on the night of my birth, how he was given a cruel name, 'half formed', how he would grow up thinking he was a monster. He had to be about my age, just a kid, right? I leaned against the wall to the right of the stairs and finished the song with Ciel.

**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia**  
**Alleluia, Alleluia, Alle-lu-u-u-ia…**

Suddenly, I heard a footstep. It was unbelievably close to me, sounding like the source was only a few inches away. I quickly turned, looking at the stairs that led to the bell tower, and just saw the end of a green tunic disappearing behind the wall of the spiral stairs. "Ciel," I quickly said to my friend as she walked up to me, so close that our arms touched. "I think I just saw someone."

"The _bell ringer_, maybe?" Ciel asked, looking up at the stairs, some sadness flooding from her amazing, memorable voice.

I shrugged. Then out of my overall curiosity, I ran up the stairs two steps at a time, Ciel running after me. "Wait!" she called, out of breath. "Aren't… we… not allowed… up here?"

"_Yeah!_" I said, excitedly. "That makes it more _fun_!" I stopped halfway up the steps, waiting for Ciel to catch up. "Come on, Ciel, you have to be _faster_!" I felt like someone else was just a few steps in front of us, listening to every word we said, catching glances at my long, choppy hair, bronze colored eyes, and the simple blue dress and brown slip on shoes I wore. Someone, looking at me, not believing that I was here near them.

"I'm _sorry,_" Ciel whined, some remains of sadness left in her voice as she came up to me, now a step below me. "I'm not as fast as you. I don't climb trees and swing off of them like you do. Is _that_ why you're so fast, Marianne?"

"Well, I run a _lot,_ and yes, that might be the reason why I'm so fast," I replied after much thinking. Swinging from trees, like a "monkey" as Nathalie called it, had affected my agility and balance, improving it.

"Now come _on_!" I continued as I took a step. I heard more footsteps ahead of me, as if the person that was there was trying to avoid being seen by us.

"Marianne, wait," Ciel said, and I stopped. The footsteps ahead of me stopped as well. "We're not thinking this through. We came here to pray for Magnifique, remember? Not to chase someone down. We're not allowed up here, anyway."

I crossed my arms at my friend. "_Why_?" I asked. "Do you think that we'll get in_ trouble_?"

"Minister Frollo may-" Ciel began to explain, but I cut her off by shaking my head at her, like a mother playfully scolding a misbehaving child.

"You always think of the _worst_ things that can happen, Ciel," I said to my friend, smiling.

"Well, you can go ahead, but I'm_ not_ going with you," Ciel told me, crossing her arms like mine. "I'll be in the sanctuary praying for Magnifique if you need me." And just like that, she was gone, leaving me standing there. Ciel had_ never_ acted like that before, never left me behind to venture on my own. Maybe Magnifique's death had made her angry and scarred her for life. Maybe she'd be a bit more angry and be able to stand up for herself more for the rest of her life because of what had happened. I know that it had scarred me for life, making me open my eyes to the cruelty of the world. To the cruelty of that man.

"Ciel!" I called, a catch in my shaky voice, hoping that my friend would come back up. She didn't.

Pure silence filled the stairwell. The sounds Magnifique gave off after her death. None. No words escaping her lips. Everything in her mortal world completely silent as people yelled for God to bless her. Frollo's furious face after my father yelled the first five words, starting the chain reaction.

I shut my eyes tight and leaned against the wall. "Ciel," I muttered again, remembering how my father held Ciel and I close to him as Magnifique was burned alive for a crime she did not commit. Soon, I was whispering the gypsy girl's name as wet, crystal colored tears slowly made their way out of my closed eyes, pushing against my eyelids. "Magnifique... Magnifique… Magnifique…" Why was the world so cruel? Why were some people so _heartless_? Why was Frollo so_ cold_, so _destructive_, so_ horrible_ towards gypsies? I completely forgot where I was and was lost in my thoughts as Magnifique's name kept coming from my lips and tears ran down my cheeks, my body pressing up against the wall.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?" I asked as I was pulled back into reality, the sudden voice making the tears cease and my thoughts about Magnifique turn into nothing. I stepped away from the wall and looked around, saw no one, but felt like there was someone there, worrying about me, wondering how I was feeling and why I was crying. The words echoed in my head, replaying over and over until I didn't know if they were being spoken in real life or were just in my mind.

That voice… it was a male's voice, no doubt about that, a young male, maybe about my age. But the tone of voice, the way it was spoken, sounded incredibly gentle and kind, like they were speaking to a sensitive, small child and trying not to hurt them (well, I was a small child, but that wasn't the point). The voice, my mother sometimes said, gives you a small glimpse into the soul. If that voice was anything like that person's soul, they were probably the most kindhearted person in the world.

And that person's voice, it sounded unbelievably like bells. It was strong, yet gentle and beautiful. I heard bells ringing as those words were spoken, the bells of Notre Dame ringing in the evening, the sound I fell asleep to most nights… The familiar, strong, beautiful ringing of the bells.

"_Hello_?" I asked, taking a step up and looking around the corner. I could feel someone's presence there, just about a foot from me. "Could you, um, could you say that again?"

"I want to know if you're okay," the voice said again, the musical sound of bells filling my ears. Such a pleasant sound! This person had said two sentences to me and I wanted to listen to them talk for ages, just to hear the gorgeous sound of the bells in their voice.

I couldn't help but smile at the sound. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said, wiping a few tears from my eyes with the back of my right hand. "I'm just upset over that girl burning, is all." An awkward silence fell between us, and I wanted to break it. I wanted to hear that voice more. "Who are you?" I asked out of my overall curiosity. "Are you... the bell ringer of Notre Dame?"

I heard that person take a heavy step back as I realized that the question had made them become extremely uncomfortable. "Um, y-yes," he said, and my eyes widened.

My parents had told me stories about the deformed bell ringer, how he was forced to be taken in by Frollo, and how he was going to grow up thinking he was a monster. "_Darkness comes in different forms_," I muttered, shaking in slight fear as I looked into the darkness, knowing that the bell ringer of Notre Dame was there. I kept trying to remind myself that if I saw his face,_ when_ I saw his face, I would have to know that looks mean nothing to God, and looks should mean nothing to us. Only the heart and soul should count, but alas, in this modern world, they didn't. Looks seemed to win over all.

I couldn't leave now. I had to say something. I cocked my head to the right, squinting through the darkness, unable to see any part of this person. "Come into the light so that I can see you better," I said, immediately regretting my words. The bell ringer only took another step back, which made me take a step up. "I _promise_, I won't be scared," I childishly promised him. That only made him run up the steps, away from me.

"Hey!" I called, running after him. "Come back!" But before I could catch up to him, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Marianne!" it called. "What are you doing up there?"

"Mommy?" I asked, immediately stopping and turning around. "I'm, just, um, uh… Nothing!"

I heard my mother chuckle, her familiar, sweet, motherly laughter filling the air, and I couldn't help but giggle a bit as well. "Well, come down here, darling, we have to go home how," she said in a gentle tone of voice. One thing I loved about my mother was her voice. It was sweet and gentle, and reminded me of roses. I can't honestly say that her voice sounds like a rose, since a rose has no sound, but what I can say is that her motherly, kind voice reminds me of the roses that grow in our yard that she sells.

"Okay, mommy!" I called, smiling, running back down the steps, completely abandoning my search for the bell ringer.

I immediately remembered the bell ringer's name as I ran to my mother, knowing that someday I would meet him, no matter how far away that day may have been.

_One day, Quasimodo, one day…_

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**How'd you like it? Please leave a review in the box down below, and chapter 6 is coming SOON! Maybe tomorrow, I want to get you guys up to speed with what I'm writing. BYE!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Here's chapter six! Sorry that I haven't been here a lot, I've been busy. I got into my school play and I can only be on the computer if I have little to no homework and on the weekends, since I'm at school until 3:30-5:30 every day now. Well, chapter 6 is HERE!**

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The days went by, each one a tad less exciting than the one before. It seemed that when I was ten and eleven years old, every day was the same. Wake up to the sounds of the bells, get dressed, go through my morning routine, go to Notre Dame for a little bit to pray, hang out with Ciel and Noemi, talk about how much of a brat Valentine Frollo was, have lunch, help my mother pick flowers, spend a few hours swinging from tree to tree and jumping around, spend more time with Ciel and Noemi, go home at the sound of the bells of Notre Dame, have supper, write in my diary about the day's events, spend some time with Noemi, go to sleep. Repeat. Same old, same old. I needed something to do. I needed an adventure.

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Ten, eleven, and twelve- those were the years that I started growing out of my childish ways and becoming a young lady. When I began entering my teenage years and leaving my years as a child behind me. People began talking to me in more grown-up ways, Nathalie especially. And I could definitely understand more things that adults were saying to each other.

Like one night, right as I was about to go to sleep and I was getting into my nightclothes, I heard Nathalie and Noemi talking, speaking gentle, kind words to each other that I could not hear, for I was down the hall and too far from them. The two had been talking a lot lately, and had been growing a very strong bond, which I absolutely hated. I'd never liked Nathalie, she'd always made me feel inferior to her and abandoned and cold. So of course, I didn't want Noemi going anywhere near our aunt. But since Nathalie favored Noemi over me, and since Noemi was her favorite niece out of the two of us, Nathalie enjoyed spending time with my younger sister, and Noemi loved spending time with her aunt. This made me absolutely furious. So when I heard them talking, I had to spy on them and see what they were speaking to each other about.

I silently crept up to the door of Noemi's room, which was only opened a crack, and peered in. Nathalie was sitting at the edge of Noemi's single person bed, smiling at my sister and speaking words in a gentle, kind voice. Odd. I'd never heard Nathalie speak like that around me. That was probably because Noemi was her favorite. Noemi was underneath the covers of her red heavy blanket, her head on a white pillow. I could just see the top of Noemi's light purple nightgown, the one that Nathalie had sewn for her, with long sleeves, a black ribbon right at the collar, hemmed at Noemi's knees. It was a very cute nightgown- well, Nathalie always made the cutest outfits for her favorite niece. Did she ever make me anything? No. Only for tenth birthday did she make me a simply adorable forest green dress that went up to my ankles and had no sleeves at all. I wore that dress often because of its attractiveness and cuteness, but I never wanted to wear it. It had been sewn by the woman I feared.

"Oh, yes," Nathalie was saying to my sister, smiling warmly, her emerald green eyes seeming to sparkle. When she spoke to Noemi, Nathalie lost all of her coldness. As I watched Nathalie speak to my sister, the world didn't seem cold like it always did when I was around Nathalie. The world seemed warm and comforting. I knew that it was just a mask, a blanket to cover up Nathalie's true coldness.

"She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known," Nathalie continued in a gentle voice. "She looked just like you, Noemi, darling. Long, straight, gorgeous chocolate brown hair, sparkling deep brown eyes, and peachy skin. She was thin, tall, and had incredible beauty. Just like you." At those words, Noemi seemed to light up, her smile becoming bigger and her eyes sparkling even more than they already were.

"And she was really nice?" Noemi asked in her adorable, curious voice.

"Yes, of course, dear," Nathalie replied. "Your grandmother was the kindest woman I'd ever known. She was compassionate to the outcasts and kind to nearly everyone."

So they were talking about Antoinette and Nathalie's mother, my grandmother, Noemi Fleur. Nathalie had never talked about my grandmother to me before. I continued listening, eager to hear more about the woman.

"Your grandma Noemi was the most amazing woman," Nathalie continued, placing a hand on Noemi's cheek, making anger start to build up inside me. "And so are you. That's why you were named after her instead of after a gypsy woman." Nathalie suddenly became very serious. "Gypsies are evil, you know, and I wouldn't dare want you to be named after one of them. Gypsies are evil, hating creatures, and they need to be destroyed."

"But Auntie Nathalie," Noemi began to say in her ever so sweet voice, "I know a gypsy. Ciel. She isn't evil at all. She's really nice, and she's so strong and brave-"

"That's what she wants you to think, sweetheart," Nathalie continued as I balled my hands into fists, wanting to punch my aunt in the face. "All gypsies are evil, and that Ciel girl is lying to you. Don't ever believe a word she says."

Noemi went completely silent, and Nathalie's face turned back into a face of sweetness. "Noemi, my darling, don't tell anyone about this," my aunt began, "but I have a plan. A plan to get control over Paris and destroy those gypsies."

"Really?" Noemi asked, her eyes wide with an awkward sense of wonder. Her voice didn't sound that all curious. It sounded more sad and a bit angry. "What's your plan, auntie?"

"Darling, you're not old enough to understand yet," Nathalie said, leaning over my sister more. "When you are older, maybe when you're in your mid-teens, I will explain my plan to you." Nathalie grinned, and I gulped. A plan? A plan created by Nathalie Fleur? This could not be good. This plan could only be a plan for evil. "Right now," Nathalie continued, "it is time for all good little boys and girls to go to sleep."

"Auntie, I'm not a little girl anymore," Noemi said, smiling childishly and crossing her arms.

"Oh, of course you're not, darling, I was only kidding," Nathalie chuckled. "I meant to say that it is time for all good boys and girls to go to bed."

Noemi smiled as Nathalie leaned over and planted a kiss on my sister's forehead, making me grunt in anger and rage. I hated Nathalie, and I especially hated Nathalie showing love to my younger sister, who I cared about so much.

"Auntie?" Noemi asked as Nathalie got up to blow out the candle.

"What is it, darling?" Nathalie asked in a motherly tone, turning back around and looking at Noemi.

"Can you sing me a song?" Noemi asked. "Like the song mom used to sing to me?"

"Of course, my pet," Nathalie said as she blew out the candle. The room was now dark and a bit creepy, perfect for telling a scary story. Nathalie stood over Noemi and ran her fingers through Noemi's beautiful hair as she sang in her beautiful yet slightly deep voice:

**Sleep, my young Noemi**  
**Plunge into your dream**  
**One day, when you're big and strong**  
**You will be a queen**

My eyes widened. A queen? Was this a sign of Nathalie's plan, a sign of what Noemi would become? Would Nathalie have Noemi take over the throne of France and become a queen? This wasn't a lullaby for sweet dreams. This was a sign for a living nightmare.

"Good night," Noemi said, smiling as she closed her eyes.

"Good night," Nathalie said, smiling as she walked towards the door. "Sweet dreams, my little princess." And with that, opened the door and left just as I was making a run towards my room. Little princess? A plan? One day, when you're big and strong, you will be a queen? This was a sign. A sign for disaster. I kept telling myself that I should do something to prevent this disaster to come. But what could I do? I was only Marianne- a young girl with little knowledge of darkness, who knew nothing about the world…

* * *

Ciel, Noemi and I spent a lot of time in Notre Dame, praying, listening to my father preach, or just admiring the cathedral. Who wouldn't want to take a moment to stop and stare at Notre Dame? It's an incredible place, let me tell you. All the statues, high ceilings, and stain glass windows make Notre Dame a beautiful sight from the inside and out. One of Notre Dame's most notable features are the statues that stand over the entrance and around the outside of the cathedral, their creepy, stone eyes seeming to stare down at you, watching your every move. On an afternoon in May, when I was twelve, Ciel, Noemi and I were sitting on the steps of the cathedral, talking while eating candy (mostly peppermints, my favorite kind of candy) that we had bought from the market earlier that morning. We went there almost three times each week and sat in the same spot every time we went. I felt like if I was near the cathedral and talking about my problems, then God would hear them and try and help me, which is probably why we started going there and sitting in that particular spot most days.

" 'Never do anything bad, girls, or the eyes of Notre Dame will see what you've done and punish you' ," I ended up saying that spring afternoon as I gazed up at the creepy statues, the eyes seeming to look right down on us. "At least, that's what dad says."

"Yep," Noemi said, sucking on a peppermint. "The statues see everything you do, and they hear everything you say."

"My theory," Ciel said to us, looking up at the statues as well, "is that the statues are secretly angels. They were sent here by God and disguise themselves as statues. So every night when everyone's sleeping, they go back up to heaven and tell God all the good things that they saw people do, and all the bad things that they saw people do. That way God can determine what people he'll let into heaven."

My voice went down to barely a whisper when I leaned in, smiling, and said to my friends in a joking tone, "If that's the case, then Frollo's not getting into heaven at all." Noemi gave a slight giggle, her adorable and attractive laugh filling the air around us. That laugh could lure in any boy or man who wanted an adorable girlfriend. Because if there was one word that described Noemi, it was 'adorable'. Ciel, however, just nodded, not smiling at all. Her lips, colored a mixture between pale pink and bronze, curved downwards. I immediately got the message- countless people killed could not be joked about.

"Um, what did you just say about my uncle, Amour?"

I could recognize that obnoxious, light voice anywhere. That voice, which sounded and spoke words that were like poisoned chocolate. The voice of none other than Valentine Frollo, the diva of Notre Dame. The three of us looked up and saw Valentine looking down at us, like a cat about to pounce on its prey, and we were three mice that she was about to have for dinner. I gulped. Everything about the young lady was drop dead gorgeous, her silky, black hair, her light, pale skin, her incredible singing voice. Everything was beautiful except for her eyes. Those eyes! Rule number one: never make eye contact with Valentine Frollo. At all. Because when you do, you'll wish you hadn't. Her gray, emotionless eyes are the scariest things in the universe. They stare right into you and are like two deadly knives, cutting your soul up. The longer you make eye contact, the bigger the cuts get, the more pain you feel. And whenever I look into her eyes, I feel the pain in my soul. I feel her dagger-like eyes cutting my very soul apart. It's one of the most painful things I have ever experienced in my life. My eyes went to her neck instead.

"Nothing!" I immediately cried. "Nothing at all!"

Valentine, the furious look remaining on her perfect face, crossed her thin arms and shook her head. "You're lucky I'm in an exceptionally good mood today, Amour, or else I'd have my uncle behead all three of you."

"Valentine, you can't behead a group of kids," Ciel reminded the girl in front of us.

Valentine glared at Ciel, who suddenly shivered with fear. "You stay out of this, you filthy gypsy, you," the young Frollo snapped at my friend. "I may be a kid as well, but I have power over you. If you hadn't noticed, I am related to the amazing Judge Claude Frollo. Being a relative of his makes me have power over you. So I suggest you shut it."

Ciel looked incredibly offended at those words and sadness appeared in her dark eyes. Valentine stuck her nose up in the air, like a snobby brat like herself would, and walked to the other side of the steps of Notre Dame, her arms crossed, acting like she was the princess of Paris. She was, technically, but that wasn't the point.

What Valentine Frollo usually did in her spare time was go to the steps of Notre Dame, put a black hat upside down in front of her, and she'd sing, her gorgeous, flawless voice filling the air. She'd usually sing the same song, a song she wrote that she'd titled 'A Serenade of Lovers', but very rarely she would mix it up a bit and sing something else, maybe one of her favorite hymns. This was one of the common times that she sung, 'A Serenade of Lovers' in her amazing voice. She put the black hat in front of her and began to sing in a voice that sounded like water beating against rocks, like the Seine river did;

**We meet again**  
**On this peaceful night**  
**I thought it was the end**  
**And I hope you are alright**  
**You speak your words**  
**So gentle, unafraid**  
**"I was wrong, darling,**  
**I wish I would have stayed"**

As she sung, people started to crowd around the bottom of the steps, listening to her voice, tossing gold coins into the hat, some even falling at her feet. Valentine didn't notice this. She always sang with her eyes closed and never looked around when singing. I thought that that was pretty odd, how she never looked around with her empty, piercing eyes and easily determined who was an outcast and who was rich like she usually did. No, she sang with her eyes closed, like she wanted to be in her own, dark world when she entertained people. How very strange.

**Your words keep repeating**  
**As I smile and I sigh**  
**I thought you'd left me**  
**And then I wonder, why?**

**We need to be together**  
**You and me**  
**A serenade of lovers**  
**Sing with me**  
**Promise me you'll love me**  
**And never leave my side**  
**Promise me you'll keep me**  
**And never tell a lie**  
**A serenade of lovers**  
**A serenade of lovers**  
**That sweet, peaceful serenade**  
**Our serenade of lovers…**

How weird it was that that night was the night that all the love I had inside me vanished.

And how weird it was that that was the day my best friend was banished from the very place she called her home.

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**Cliffhanger? I don't know. Hope you liked the chapter! Please leave a review in the box below! Also, I want to know what PAIRINGS you all want to see in this story! Maybe FrolloXNathalie (that'd be creepy, but I may actually do it), or CielXClopin? I was thinking of NoemiXClopin, but I don't know. There's definitely going to be MariXQuasi, which is the main pairing. But what do you all want to see?**

**Kay, well, that's enough for now, bye!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

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**Okay, so I've been VERY busy with my school play and everything, and I haven't had a lot of time to write chapters... I've been writing this story non-stop today, and I'm really in the ZONE. I have a billion ideas planned out for this story, and it will be full of ROMANCE and DRAMA and ANTAGONISTS and FRIENDSHIP and AWESOMENESS!...**

**So far, we have three antagonists (Frollo, Valentine, and Nathalie), who are all going to want revenge on Marianne and try and end her life... Hmm, I wonder where this is going to go? Well, here's chapter SEVEN!**

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The day of darkness. It all happened so quickly, and I could scarcely take it in as it was happening, I'm still not sure if it was all a dream or just plain reality. It was one of the saddest days of my life, a day that would remain vivid and harsh in my memory for years upon years to come.

It began with a plan. A plan to completely humiliate Valentine and ruin her very life. Ciel and I had managed to climb up to the top of the candy shop using a ladder that a painter had been using to paint the sign at the top of the shop that read, 'Jacqueline's Candy Shop'. The painter had left for lunch, leaving his bucket of white paint at the top of the building, and when Ciel and I saw Valentine walking down that road, we quickly devised a plan to humiliate the young Frollo.

We would climb up the ladder, hide at the top of the building, and when Valentine passed under us, we'd pour the bucket of paint all over her and quickly run before she could spot us. It was brilliant. It was our very first plan for trouble, and our very first crime we would plan to commit. I didn't know it yet, but this crime would lead to countless others, turning me into something I'd never thought I'd ever be- a sinner. But we'll get to that part later.

"Isn't this _illegal,_ Marianne?" Ciel asked cautiously as we kneeled on the roof of Jacqueline's Candy Shop, the bucket of paint tight in my hands. Her face, full of confusion and fear, told me that she did not want to do this at all, that she'd rather just humiliate Valentine sometime in the future. Any time but now, her face said. But I didn't listen to her face at all.

_"Look_, Ciel," I said, putting my right hand on Ciel's shoulder, smiling at her, a mischievous look in my eyes and a 'bad girl' feeling in my soul, the feeling that you get when you're about to commit a crime or do something illegal. "It's not like there's a real _rule_ written out that completely forbids us from doing something like this. It's not one of the ten commandments or anything, and it's never been passed as an official rule. Have you ever seen anything anywhere that says,_ 'Thou shalt not pour white paint all over Valentine Frollo from the top of Jacqueline's Candy Shop'_?"

Ciel laughed, the lovely music of her laughter filling the air around us. "I guess not," she said, grinning devilishly, getting the same bad girl feeling that I was getting inside of me.

"Oh!" I gasped, spotting Valentine walking up to the shop, walking around with her nose in the air like she owned everything in the world, just how she always walked. That snobby brat. "Here she comes! Hide!" We quickly moved back, just sticking our eyes over the edge of the roof to see the young Frollo. But there was something different about her today. She wasn't alone, like she always was. There was someone walking next to her, holding her hand, looking like they cared very much about her well-being _- a boy_.

This boy in particular looked incredibly handsome. He had messy, light blonde hair, looking as if the sun had gently stroked his hair with its warming, glowing rays. His eyes were a weird shade of dark blue, like the way the sky looks right as the moon is beginning to rise. His skin was a peachy tone, similar to mine, but a few shades paler. The boy had thin lips, a great bone structure in his face, he was tall, and he was muscular. He wore a loose, white shirt and dark brown pants, and I could see his pecks and biceps pushing against the fabric. Oh, he was… hot. He was hot, and he made me feel hot. My cheeks got all warm, and all time seemed to slow down. The light hit this boy just right, making him seem like a star from a play, and it was like he and I were the only two people in this world. My heart skipped several beats. What was this feeling, so sudden and new, that I felt at the moment I lay eyes on him?

I felt myself sweating as Ciel gave me a quick shove. "_Mari_, stop staring at that hottie and let's do what we came up here to do!"

"Um, _right,_" I said, reminding myself that we came here to dump paint all over Valentine Frollo, not for me to stare at that incredibly beautiful boy who was holding the Frollo's hand. Ciel took the bucket of paint and began to tilt it, a few drops dripping off of the edges.

That's when everything that could go wrong went wrong.

It all went so fast that I could barely describe what I saw. Ciel fell forward, the front half of her body going off of the building, the paint and bucket falling to the ground below us. Immediately, I grabbed onto the back of her blouse and pulled back. Just as I grabbed it, Ciel's hand fell forward, and hit the edge of the sign that was dangling from the roof by a single rope. She grabbed onto the rope and pulled, trying to get herself up. Instead, the rope completely snapped, and the sign went falling down just as I pulled Ciel up, and just as a woman was passing underneath it…

A loud crash and a female scream sounded, and Ciel and I threw ourselves onto the center of the roof, pressing ourselves against it, trying not to make ourselves seen. Ciel's heart beat fast, tears were streaming down her face, and she was breathing so heavily that I thought she was going to faint or have a heart attack. One of the two. Many people were screaming below us, and we heard many footsteps. "What the_ hell_ just happened!?" Ciel exclaimed to me, crying now. I widened my eyes at the fact that a curse was able to escape her lips, for I'd never heard Ciel say a word like that, never.

"I have no clue, but we have to get out of here_, like, now,_" I said softer but in a more stressed tone. I don't know how we did it, but we were able to jump down into the backyard of the candy store and climb over the fence, making our way in front of Jacqueline's Candy Shop from a different angle so that people didn't suspect us, making sure that we had no paint on ourselves before going. What I saw shocked only part of me, for everything was happening to quickly that I had absolutely no time to take anything in.

There was a woman laying underneath the large, fallen sign. And the woman was dead. All the life had flooded from her. Gone. Passed. And it was all the faults of Ciel and I.

We immediately fled the scene and retreated into the backyard of my house, running as fast as our young legs could carry us, knowing to show no emotion until we reached by house. As soon as we arrived there, we closed and locked the gate behind us and flung ourselves onto the soft, lush, green grass. We cried into it, those crystal-like tears running from our eyes as the sudden realization that we'd been responsible for a death hit us.

That woman was a citizen of Paris, like us. She had a life. She could have been married to a handsome, loving husband, who will be in tears at the sound of someone telling him that his wife had been crushed by a sign while shopping. She could have had children, who would be in complete horror and be weeping when they find out that the woman they relied on for survival, the woman they loved and called their mother, had died earlier that day. She could have had a job, and made money for the family along with the husband, and because of her death, the family wouldn't be able to pay taxes, and would possibly be poor. She could have parents, sisters, aunts, uncles, who will all be completely shocked and in complete sorrow when they hear news of the woman's death. The woman could have had plans to do something the week after, or was on her way to do something with someone, maybe go and spend an afternoon with her husband, walking by the Seine.

This woman definitely had a story. Her life story was a book that was not nearly finished, that still had many more chapters left. And by a complete accident, we had ended it for her. We'd finished the book of her life off with 'a girl accidentally made a sign fall from a building and it crashed on her, ending her life.' That book could have gone on for decades upon decades more, but no. It was all over. And those last sentences of the book of her life would remain in my mind forever. The first death I've ever caused. And a complete accident, which made the matter ten times worse than it actually was.

"I killed her!" Ciel cried, weeping harder than I've ever seen her weep before. The tears from her eyes, covering up her dark eyes, caused me complete pain. I loved Ciel like a sister, and to see her in pain hurt me so much. _"I killed someone, Mari, I really did!_" Ciel continued to cry, in more sadness than I'd ever seen her before. _"I'm a murderer! A murderer! I killed her! I ENDED HER LIFE!_" She was panting and gasping as she cried heavily, screaming so loud that I could tell it was hurting her voice, sobbing into the green grass, expecting me to say something comforting to her.

"_WE_ KILLED HER!"

"Huh?" Ciel asked, looking up at me, her brown eyes full of tears. I had been so angry at her that I'd just screamed those words, wanting her to stop being so negative. My face was full of anger and tears. I don't think she'd realized that I was in as much pain as she was in.

_"We both killed her_!" I yelled at my friend, my face turning red from the anger and from the water coming from my eyes as I screamed so loud that I think all of France heard me. _"You think you're the only one responsible, Ciel!? I came up with you, I encouraged you to help me, it was my fault as well! I would say that it was my fault completely! We both murdered her, what don't you understand about that! WE KILLED HER!"_ By then, I was sobbing heavily and gasping for air, banging on the ground with my fists because of the anger that was much too much for my mind and starting to spill over. I had to get my anger out somewhere, and punching the ground seemed to work for a few minutes. I stared at Ciel, my eyes red from the tears and my face full of fury from her negativity and her blaming herself for something that was almost all my fault.

Ciel just stared at me for a moment, her dark colored eyes seeming to search my mind, wanting to discover what I was feeling, and then she completely lost it. Ciel threw herself onto me and cried, banging on my chest with her bare fists. She was flat out bawling, making animal noises and soaking my blouse with her tears. I understood why she wept, and I wept as well as we fed the grass with our tears, slowly and painfully taking in the fact that we'd killed that woman, ended the story of her life.

At that very moment, two people approached us. One of them I recognized as Noemi, my beautiful younger sister, her eyes full of concern as she looked at us, rocking and crying on the ground. _"Mari? Ciel_?" she asked us. "What _happened_?"

Suddenly, the gate flung open, and in walked a familiar, short figure, who, as usual, was wearing his large hat, a yellow feather sticking out of it. He looked mad. Unbelievably furious, his face turning red, eyes staring at Ciel in disbelief. "Clopin!" Ciel cried, her eyes still full of tears. "Oh, Clopin, please, you know it was an accident, I didn't mean to kill her, I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

So _that_ was Clopin, the prince of the gypsies. Ciel had mentioned him many times before. "Clopin Trouillefou," she said to me once, "is the king of the gypsies. Well, not really the king yet. His father was the former king, and he died a few years ago. Hanged by Frollo. Clopin took over after that, and ever since then he's been trying to free us from persecution. He's only four years older than we are, so it's hard for him to do something like that at a young age. But we've been helping him." When she mentioned his name, Ciel would look all dreamy, her cheeks getting red, a big smile on her face. She had an obvious crush on the gypsy king, no doubt about that. But for some reason, I couldn't see them ending up together in the end.

Ciel now looked at the gypsy prince, her eyes full of plea, begging that Clopin would give her a second chance, which seemed so out of reach to her. Clopin's furious look did not change, no matter how long he looked at the crying, pleading mess of a girl in front of him who had loved him for so long, although that thought was completely out of his mind.

Clopin shook his head. "I can_not_ trust you anymore, Ciel Gitane!" he yelled harshly, making Ciel look up and move back in shock. "You did something completely foolish, and ended that poor woman's life!" Clopin went on, screaming at the girl who loved him as Ciel buried her face in her hands while kneeling on the ground, looking like a complete mess. Ciel's emotional pain grew the longer the gypsy prince yelled at him, and Noemi and I could only stand there, holding each other, as the leader of the outcasts punished one of his people, one who didn't even deserve to be punished.

"…and for that, I hereby_ banish_ you from the Court of Miracles_ forever_!" Those words hit me like a bee sting and stung, embedded into my mind forever. Ciel looked up, her tears stopping, not believing what the man she loved had said. Clopin, his look of anger still frozen onto his face, turned around and left, slamming the fence gate shut behind him.

Ciel was quiet for a moment, then continued sobbing even more, rolling around in the grass. Her clothes were far from dirtied, and I bet that she wouldn't be able to even smile for weeks. Noemi and I did our best to comfort the young gypsy in the weeks that followed. But during those weeks, I felt like I was doing the smallest amount of comforting that I could ever do…

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**And so, Mari and Ciel commit their first crime, and Ciel is banished from the Court of Miracles. THERE IS A HUGE REASON I DID THIS. It will be revealed VERY late in the story, like, towards the second climax (YES, I'm writing this story with TWO climaxes). So, see you all in chapter EIGHT!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Okay, so there's going to be a lot of sisterXsister love in here… Not the romantic kind of thing, I don't write girlXgirl or boyXboy, but the sisterly love kind of thing… I was listening to 'Magnet' (the Lily_V3 and Megpoid POWER version), so you can probably guess where that came from. There're (yes, 'there're' is a word now) also some hints of sisterly love with Ciel and Marianne, you'll be able to see it if you squint.**

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Darkness comes in many different forms. That was the night my mother's words had come to life. And sometimes, darkness doesn't come in the form of a human. Darkness can come in the form of an object- in the form of fire. That is how that night became dubbed as 'La Nuit de la Dark Fire'- 'The Night of the Dark Fire'.

It all started the night Ciel had been banned from the Court of Miracles. She was sleeping in my room with me, on the other side of my queen sized bed, our backs touching. She was crying in her sleep, and I hated it. I loved Ciel with all of my heart, and seeing her cry only made emotional pain come through me. I had completely forgotten that it was basically all my fault that the woman had died, and I was completely focused on comforting Ciel. We'd told Noemi what happened, who understood, for she knew that it had been an accident. The three of us made a solemn oath that we'd never tell a soul about the woman's death and how it was Ciel and my faults.

We lay in bed, and I was completely unable to sleep. I had a horrible feeling about that night. I knew that something bad was going to happen, I just didn't know what it was.

I rolled over to face my friend. "Ciel?" I whispered through the darkness. "Ciel, are you awake?"

Ciel rolled over to face me, her tearful, dark eyes big and full of fear. She nodded silently. I smiled at her. "You can't sleep?" Ciel asked me in a childish tone.

I shook my head. "Want to sneak out?" I asked. I had snuck out of the house multiple times before when I couldn't sleep. Usually I went into the backyard to swing off of trees, or took a walk around Paris until I felt tired and went back to bed. Ciel looked at me and nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips, which made me smile as well. That was the first time her lips had curved upwards since we killed that woman.

Quickly, we got out of bed, put our robes and slippers on, and made our way out of my bedroom. The only way to get out of the house was through Noemi's room. Her window was the only window that opened and closed if you pushed it hard enough, and the only window that I could get through if I stood on her dresser, which was right underneath the glass. We quickly left my bedroom, closing the door behind us, and tip-toed down the hall.

**La Nuit du Feu Noir est à nos portes**

I froze when I heard the familiar singing. The song was in perfect French, and sounded very gentle, yet pleading and commanding. A mix between harsh and kind. "Ciel," I whispered. "Listen." She froze as well as we listened to the next line of the song.

**La Nuit du Feu Noir est venue près de**

"Isn't that Nathalie singing?" Ciel asked. I listened more, and agreed that it sounded quite like my coldhearted aunt. I heard her icy tone of voice and deep sounding words.

**La Nuit de la Dark Fire**  
**La Nuit de la Dark Fire**

I opened the door to the living room a crack, which was just to the left of me, and peered in. There was a fire in the fireplace, and Nathalie was kneeling in front of it, her head bowed and her hands folded, like she was praying. A few strands of her snow white hair fell in front of her face, but most of it stayed in that messy bun. I was utterly confused. Why was Nathalie singing?

**La Nuit de la Dark Fire sera ici**

"The Night of the Dark Fire?" I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. "What dark fire?" By then, half my body was in the living room, Ciel peering in over my shoulder. My bronze colored eyes were full of pure curiosity as I continued listening to Nathalie sing. She threw her arms up into the air and sang:

**Oh mon Dieu, s'il vous plaît me protéger**  
**Oh mon Dieu, s'il vous plaît protéger Noemi**

"Noemi?" I asked. "What does Noemi have to do with a dark fire?" I had some clue of what she was saying. 'Oh mon Dieu' meant 'Oh God', but why did she mention Noemi? The next few lines were sung as Nathalie put her arms at her sides and stood up, her emerald green knife-like eyes staring into the fire with a weird longing.

**Oh mon Dieu, protégez-nous**  
**Oh mon Dieu, protégez-nous**

Suddenly, her voice became louder, angrier, and more stressed as she stood up, a look of anger in her face as she smiled harshly, a cheesy evil smile that struck fear into my young soul as she sang.

**Et laisser les autres brûlent **  
**Dans le feu sombre**  
**Et laisser les autres brûler dans cet incendie**

Nathalie immediately sank to the floor, curled up in a ball, her hands clawing at the floor. Her lips moved slightly, like she was praying for something, something far away from her that she could only get to through God.

Immediately, I closed the door and leaned against the wall of the hallway. I knew what my aunt had sung, and it had completely scared me. She was saying that the night of the dark fire was upon us. She also sang that she wanted God to protect Noemi and herself, but to let the others burn in the fire. What fire? Was it a metaphor of some sort?

"We have to get out of here," I softly told Ciel, who had also understood what my coldhearted aunt was saying. Ciel nodded, more of her innocence showing through (I have to say, she was adorable, like a young angel without wings), and we ran down the hall, our bare feet hitting the floor and making soft pitter-patter noises, like rain on the roof, soft and rushed.

We approached the familiar wooden door that led to my sister's room and I opened it slowly. Ciel and I stepped into the room, shutting the door behind us, in a rush to leave the house, out of fear that something was going to happen to us. We noticed that the candle was still lit, which was odd. Mother always blew the candle out before leaving Noemi's room, but we paid little attention to the candle on Noemi's dresser.

My eyes immediately darted to Noemi's bed, where my younger sister was sleeping peacefully. How angelic she looked! Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes barely touching the skin under her eyes, her thin lips slightly parted, showing a bit of her gorgeous, pearly white teeth. Her silky, chocolate brown hair was straightened, the bottom half of it disappearing under the covers with her. The moonlight coming from her window hit her just right, making her look like she was sparkling, like the moonlight was embedded into her hair. My heart began beating much faster at the very sight of her, and I was reminded of how much I loved my sister, the little girl who I wanted to protect with all my strength.

"Noemi," I muttered as I approached her bed to get a better look at her angelic figure. She looked the best when she was asleep, recharging, with no emotion on her face. She was gorgeous, and I wanted to look like her so badly. I wanted boys to hit on me as young as eleven, I wanted to look as pretty as a fashion model. I guess you could say that I wanted to be my younger sister at that moment.

I remembered what I had said to her that night when we were very young, when we were still sharing a room, before our father added another room onto our house, which became Noemi's room._ "And I promise that they won't hurt you. Trust me, Noemi. If you trust me, then nothing will be bad in your life, and you'll live to be an old lady!_" I had spoken those very words to her, and now they were echoing in my head like crazy, making tears form in my eyes. I had protected her all the years since then, but could I keep protecting her for the rest of my_ life_?

"Noemi," I muttered, like she was awake and was listening to me. "Noemi, I promise you, I'll never let anything bad happen to you." I put a hand over her chest and felt her steady, soft heartbeat. 'Bu-bum. Bu-bum. Bu-bum.' It felt like the beat that angels sang at. "You're going to grow up to be a beautiful lady, Noemi. You're going to marry a handsome, kindhearted man, and have an excellent life. And I will definitely protect you so that all of that happens to you. You'll see, I'll protect you." I managed a smile, and by now, I was crying, but I couldn't tell why. "I promise, I'll protect you." I slowly made my way away from her bed, but not before giving her a kiss on her cheek, full of passion. I was passionate about my sister, I really was, and I wanted to protect her until the very end.

"You love her, don't you, Marianne?" Ciel asked me, smiling.

I continued crying silently as I nodded, crystal-like tears blurring my vision and wetting my entire face. "Yes," I said as I approached Noemi's dresser, which was right underneath her window. I quickly jumped onto it, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand, and pushed the window open, the cool night breeze hitting my face. The feeling of freedom. I smiled as I helped Ciel onto the dresser, holding her hand as she climbed up.

Ciel slowly climbed through the window and gracefully landed onto the grass, smiling at me in an accomplished way. I smiled at her, winking, most of my tears gone. Now it was my turn. I grabbed the bottom of the window with my hands, pulling myself up with my strong arms. I couldn't get through. My foot moved around on the dresser, looking for something to push off of that could help me get through the window. Finally, my foot touched something that felt hot and in a tall, thin formation. I pushed it and fell right through the window onto the ground, Ciel closing the window without even looking into the room.

Ciel and I walked out of the backyard, down the road, and soon we were in front of Notre Dame cathedral, sitting on the steps in our pajamas, our bare feet touching the ground. The air was thick and hot, like it usually would be on a summer night like this. There were very few cool breezes.

I looked at the village square in front of Notre Dame, seeing the stage that was set up. "Magnifique," I said softly, staring at the stage. I saw Magnifique there, tied to the stake by her hands and feet, tears streaming down her face, yelling at everyone to remember her.

"Don't even remind me, Marianne, I know," Ciel said, her voice cracking with tears again, that painful, yet slightly angelic sound. "I know that this is where that girl was…" Her voice trailed off and I nodded, unable to listen to the horrible sound of Ciel nearly crying.

I smiled. "I know what'll cheer you up, Ciel," I said, grinning mischievously. "An adventure."

"_Mari_, you know what happened during our last adventure," Ciel said through sobs, the crying that caused me serious pain.

"No, Ciel, this one's different," I said, quickly trying to cheer her up. "In this adventure, no one gets hurt at all. Just a little exploration is all." I looked up at the top of the cathedral, and Ciel knew where I was looking- the bell towers.

"You want to look around the_ bell tower_?" Ciel asked. "At _this_ hour of the night?" I nodded mischievously, already up and walking through the door of the cathedral, in which hundreds of candles were still lit. "But Mari, the _bell ringer_," Ciel said to me as she followed me up to the stairs that supposedly led to the bell tower.

"What about the bell ringer?" I asked, slowing my pace down, continuing to walk up the stairs, not looking at my friend. "Look, even if he _is_ really scary, he's probably asleep at this hour of the night, he won't bother us at all." My small, bare feet hit the stone steps, my feet numb from the cold that the stone had soaked up. I didn't care. I had snuck out because of boredom, and to cure my boredom, I wanted to have an adventure. One that didn't involve me accidentally killing someone.

"But what if we wake him up, Marianne,_ then_ what'll happen?" Ciel asked, quickly following me, her feet making soft pitter patter noises behind me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll tell you if we actually wake him up," I said, shaking my head at my friend. By now, we were at the door to the bridge between the two towers, the air around us lit by a single torch that was up against the wall. I grabbed its wooden handle and pushed with all my might, Ciel and I being met by the thick, warm breeze from a summer night.

We quickly walked to the middle of the bridge and looked at the stunning view. I couldn't help but gasp in awe. I could see every single house from here, all the shops, and I even saw the roof from which we had accidentally killed that one woman. Everything looked completely deserted, making the scene look even more peaceful. The stars glittered above us, like thousands of dots of white paint on a huge, dark canvas, glowing as if each one of them were on fire. The stars shone around the bright, large, gorgeous moon, each of its craters visible in the peaceful night, and I wondered if there really did exist a ladder tall enough to reach the moon.

"Wow," I heard Ciel breathe, taking in the wondrous sight. "This is _amazing_."

I was so lost in the beautiful view of Paris that it took me a minute or so to remember that we were up here to explore the bell tower, not to stare at our home city. With catlike reflexes, I grabbed Ciel's hand, making her jump, startled at the sudden warmth of my hand.

"Come_ on_," I said childishly, basically dragging her to the door that led to the second bell tower. "Let's go see the bells!"

Ciel rolled her eyes and sighed anxiously as I flung open the door to the next bell tower.

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**Wow. Long chapter.**

**Okay, so, the song Nathalie sang, I'm not sure if the translations are correct. I used Google Translator, and that can be VERY wrong sometimes. Here are the English lyrics to her song:**

The Night of the Dark Fire is upon us  
The Night of the Dark Fire is coming near  
The Night of the Dark Fire  
The Night of the Dark Fire  
The Night of the Dark Fire will be here

Oh God, please protect me  
Oh God, please protect Noemi  
Oh God, please protect us  
Oh God, please protect us  
And let the others burn  
In the Dark Fire  
And let the others burn in this fire

**If I got the translations wrong, PLEASE tell me! I don't speak French, I can't correct it myself.**

**So, next chapter, you may need some tissues. It'll be sad. VERY sad. And next chapter, we see the bells of Notre Dame and Quasi's wooden... village... thing. I don't even know what to call it.**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013! See you next chapter! (And I'll be quicker next time)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Okay, so this is chapter nine. Wow, we're getting further and further, and this is the last chapter about Marianne's past before the story actually begins. In this chapter, we explain about the bells, a little foreshadowing about Quasi, and the saddest part in this entire story. Grab a few tissues just in case you start crying. Onward with the chapter!**

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Bells. Bells everywhere. As soon as we walked in, our gazes immediately set on the gigantic brass bells above our heads, each one in a different shape and size, dangling from strong, wooden beams above our heads, ropes dangling from their insides. So these were the musical instruments that sounded every morning and evening, the bells that set the sound of my life. Around the bells were beams, wooden ones, crisscrossing everywhere, probably the beams that held the bells and the bell towers together. I recognized the color of the bells, matching the color of my eyes completely.

"Whoa," I said, looking around the room I was in. In front of us was a wooden ladder, leading to a large curtain that had been pulled together in a messy kind of way. My curiosity was kicking in again, the thing that made me run up to the ladder and climb, wanting to explore more. _Was it my imagination, or did I hear the shuffling of feet close to us?_

"Mari, _Marianne_!" Ciel called, climbing up after me. "We _really_ shouldn't be up here."

"And why _not?_" I asked carelessly, at the top of the ladder by now, looking down at the young gypsy, hurrying to catch up to me.

"Be_cause_," Ciel said, gasping for breath (wow, she got tired really easily, that girl). "This is someone's _home_. We haven't been invited to come in yet, Marianne, so I suggest we turn-"

Ciel's voice left her as I pulled the two ends of the curtain apart, revealing one of the prettiest things I've ever seen in my life. A small replica of Paris, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The table it was sitting on was more like a makeshift than a table, made out of a barrel and a large wooden board. On top of it were miniature figures, probably made out of painted wood. There was a tiny replica of Notre Dame, with its stain glass windows, twin bell towers, and everything.

Around Notre Dame were small, wooden houses and shops, and I recognized every one of them. On the ground were small, adorable replicas of townspeople, and, if I can remember correctly, I believe there was one of Judge Frollo and a small, wooden version of Valentine Frollo. It reminded me very much of Noemi's dollhouse at home, only this had a lot more houses, and looked more like the city of Paris than anything else (I had donated my dollhouse, since I was too old to play with dolls anymore, but Noemi had wanted to keep hers, saying that it held too many childhood memories to be given away).

Hanging from the ceiling above the miniature city was a small chandelier made of broken pieces of colored glass, making colors bounce off against the dark walls like fairies flying around us, and I felt a sense of magic in the air.

"-_bac_k," Ciel finished as we got closer to the replica of the city. I noticed that all of the figures had either black or red painted smiles, black dots for eyes, and a few had red triangles for noses.

"It's the city of Paris!" I cried, smiling, proud of myself for my obvious discovery.

Ciel looked at me, and awkward expression on her face. "No _duh,_ Marianne!" she sighed, shaking her head. "I swear, you can say the most _obvious_ things sometimes."

I ignored her statement. "Look, it's just like everything is in real life!" I announced, pointing at the shops and houses. "Look, there's the carpentry shop, the bakery, and the market where mom sells flowers! And there's-" I immediately stopped when I came to Jacqueline's Candy Shop, remembering that we had recently killed someone there. "Um, and Pierre's Café," I quickly finished, turning back to the replica of Notre Dame.

It was then that I noticed the figure that had been placed on the bridge between the two towers. I picked it up in my hand, examining it, confused. The figure was that of a man, but this one was much different than all the other figures. Its back was curved, the figure itself hunched over. Its arms reached all the way to the ground, nearly touching its feet. His hair was a messy blob of red on his head, and his nose was a large, red triangle on his face. I examined it more, wondering why in the world this figure was so different from all the others, and then wondering why it was in Notre Dame-

"The bell ringer," I realized out loud, stroking the wooden hunchback's face with my right thumb. Ciel looked over at the figure I held and widened her eyes when she saw it.

"Oh _no_," she said, and I swore that I heard the shuffling of feet behind us. "_Oh_ no, no, _no_. No, I am _not_ staying here, Marianne, I'm_ not_." Ciel turned to leave, but I quickly and forcefully grabbed her shoulder, jerking her backwards.

"_Ciel_, don't tell me that you're afraid of the _bell ringer_," I said in a hard tone. Ciel turned around and was completely silent, her dark colored eyes staring into my bronze colored ones, seeming to look right into my soul, the look on her face telling me,_ 'yes, I am afraid._'

"So _what_ if he's like my dad says he is?" I demanded, the look on my face growing colder. "So _what_ if he's deformed? Does that reveal _anything_ about what he's like _inside_?" Ciel stared at me, her dark colored eyes looking at me, growing wider by the second, but looking like she was slowly understanding my words.

"_Darkness comes in different forms_!" I yelled at my friend before crossing my arms, turning away, and walking to the window that was at the other end of the room, another great view of Paris. "You don't understand, Ciel, you just _don't_," I said, shaking my head.

But I didn't understand either. I had never met the bell ringer, I didn't know anything about what he really was like. I had no right to yell at Ciel like that, and I immediately felt terrible, beginning to turn around to apologize to her.

That was when I saw the gigantic pillar of smoke coming from the area where my house was.

I leaned over and looked closer at it, a cyclone of smoke, climbing higher and higher into the sky, spreading out across the dark canvas of the night. Towards the bottom of it, I could barely see the tips of glowing red flames.

My eyes widened, my breath stopped, and I knew that it was my house.

"_NOEMI_!" I screamed, my voice echoing and bouncing inside the bell tower, completely interrupting the beautiful silence that had fallen between us. I quickly turned around, running past the makeshift table, past Ciel, down the ladder, and began running out of the cathedral. Ciel was startled by this action and ran after me.

* * *

It took me only a minute or two to get to my house, where I was hit by the most disgusting, horrifying, evil thing I had ever seen in my life.

It was my house. Barely my house, that is. Half of the walls had been eaten up by the fire, and most of what was left was dark and charred. Ashes lay strewn about the ground everywhere, what was left of most of the house. The shutters had become so weak that they were falling to the ground as I stared at my house, taking in the horrid sight. Fellow Parisians were around, throwing water onto what remained of the gigantic flame, which was now just a pile of red hot ash. Other neighbors searched the house, looking for the members of the Amour family, wanting to know if there were any survivors, if the fire from hell had spared any lives.

I threw myself against a tree, half of its leaves also eaten up by the flame, and barely had any time to think before tears began escaping from my eyes. I tried to climb the tree to get a better look at the destruction, but couldn't even move my limbs. A million questions ran through my mind- _how was the fire started? When was it started?_ And most importantly,_ were there any survivors?_

My whole body was shaking, my lips were quivering so fast that they were vibrating more than quivering, my eyes and face grew red from the crystal colored tears running from my bronze colored eyes. Because maybe, maybe, my mother, father, Noemi and Nathalie had all died in this fire, and maybe I would be alone in this world for the rest of my life, with nobody left to love me, nobody to hold me, nobody to tell me that I mattered to them. I'd become an outcast without a family, and that was the last thing I wanted.

The other Parisians began leaving, each one of them with saddened looks on their faces, a few even crying. I tried to listen as best I could to the words they were murmuring, and finally was able to hear a man saying to another male, "It's unfair. Adrien and Antoinette, both dead at such a young age. And their two daughters, those young and innocent girls, and Antoinette's sister, Nathalie. _Five people_ killed by the fire of hell in _one night_."

The man shook his head. "_Horrible_. God bless their souls." And with that, they walked off, leaving me alone, sitting in the graveyard of my family members.

"Marianne."

I could recognize that icy voice anywhere. I spun around, the tears slowly coming to me, the sudden realization that I was an orphan hitting me. I was met with my coldhearted aunt, her emerald green eyes seeming less like knives than anything else in the world. My aunt. The only family I had left.

Immediately, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around my aunt, sobbing uncontrollably into her chest, sloppily yelling out the names of those I had lost. "Mom!" I sputtered. "D-daddy!… No-Noemi!" Nathalie wrapped her thin arms around my upper back, rocking me back and forth as my knees wobbled beneath me and I was barely able to stand up. "There, there, Marianne," she hushed me, acting more like a mother than she'd ever acted in her life. "There, there." Did I hear that familiar 'I'm about to cry' catch in her voice?

* * *

I cannot even begin to describe how it feels to lose your father, mother, and younger sister all in one night.

My father, who always made sure to teach me right from wrong, who I listened to speak about God, who showed my mother love, setting an example for me. The strong, wonderful, cheery man who always made me smile when he came home, and made me smile when he preached. The man who never missed a chance to remind me how much he loved me. He was gone from my life, never to be seen by my eyes or heard by my ears or felt with my hands again.

And my mother, the most beautiful woman in all of Paris. The woman who always used to smile at me, tell me that he loved me, sing songs to me, and always made me smile. Her beautiful figure at the market, selling flowers to people who needed a little more beauty in their lives, would never be seen again. Never again would I hear her soft, angelic laughter. Her lullaby, sung in her sweet, understanding, comforting voice, would never be heard by anyone in this world ever again. The lullaby that I sing to myself to this very day, just to keep myself sane, would never be sung by her again. No, all that was left of that beautiful woman was a pile of ashes.

_Noemi_- I cried even harder when I thought of her. Her gorgeous figure, her sweet, sensitive, shy personality, her gentle, caring voice. I remember singing to her when I was a toddler, singing the lullaby our mother wrote to help her sleep. I has sung the song with such beauty, knowing that Noemi was listening to it and that it would help her plunge into her dreams. And that was after the promise I had made to her- _the promise_. "_And I promise that they won't hurt you. Trust me, Noemi. If you trust me, then nothing will be bad in your life, and you'll live to be an old lady_!" Those words echoed in my head, and I realized that I was a_ liar._ I told her, I promised her, that if she trusted me, she'd live a long, happy life. And I'd lied to her. I'd completely broken that promise and let her die in the fires of hell. I couldn't believe myself!

Never again would any of those three people be seen by anyone in this world.

That night was since then and forevermore dubbed 'The Night of the Dark Fire'- or, in French, 'La Nuit de la Dark Fire'.

And on that day, I vowed revenge on the person who started the fire. I knew, deep inside my soul, that the fire hadn't been started on its own. I knew that the fire had been started by a person. On that day, I swore to myself that I would stop at nothing to end the life of the one who brought the fire of hell into my home and killed my family members. Even if it was someone close to me.

* * *

**Who cried? I don't think I went that deep, though...**

**I am currently in charge of multiple ships that sail in the 'Heart of a Thief' ship league (or whatever it's called). I am in charge of all of them. We have the SS Quarianne, which is the biggest and main ship. It's actually never been started yet, and the blueprints are finished. I'd say that it's going to be bigger than Jay-Z's yacht (yes, I ****_have_**** seen Jay-Z's yacht in real life), and almost as big as the titanic. The SS Quarianne is a work in progress, and we're planning on making it the biggest ship in the ****_world_****.**

**Then there's the tiniest ship, the SS Cliel, which is barely a ship. It's a ****_canoe_****. About 50,000 SS Cliels could fit into one SS Quarianne. At least the SS Cliel has actually been created.**

**Some future ships: SS Ciestin (Ciel and Destin); SS Isaarianne (Isaac and Marianne); SS Cloemi (Clopin and Noemi); SS Isalentine (Isaac and Valentine); SS Isacqueline (Isaac and Jacqueline) and the well known SS Phoemeralda (Phoebus and Esmeralda).**

**We will add a ****_bunch_**** more ships as time goes on!**

**Okay, ****next chapter:**** we introduce 3 main OCs: Mama Lierre, Jacqueline, and Isaac (who is a HUGE lover for Marianne). Ooh, I smell break-up songs!**

**Please leave a review in the box below! Thank-you, and good day to you all!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

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**I'm back, and chapter 10 is UP!**

**While I was writing this, I listened to the song 'Hopelessly Devoted To You' from Grease. Wow, if my school does Grease as their musical next year, then I'm going to try for either Sandy or Rizzo, since they're both equally awesome.**

**And the next 2 chapters are going to be basically all OCs, just stuff happening between my own characters, and a few new ones are gonna be introduced.**

**Here's the chapter, hope you all like!**

* * *

SEVEN YEARS LATER…

I flung open the wooden door to the place I called home. Immediately, I was met with a familiar sight. A large, tiled floor to the right of me, a band playing music and a familiar red haired girl singing perfectly to the beat of their song. To the left of me, there was a wooden bar, with flavors and liquids of all kinds against the wall. Wooden stools lined up against the wooden bar, which stretched all across the room. At the far end of the room was a door made of a darker colored wood. And there were people everywhere, as there usually were. Two people were behind the bar, serving alcoholic beverages; at least eight men sitting in barstools, some drunk and intoxicated, most of them just getting their first round of drinks. And there were at least ten to fifteen people dancing on the tiled floor, moving to the music made by the band and the girl singing.

I, as usual, was wearing my black cloak. My cloak, which I usually went around in, which had become known throughout all of Paris, but in the most negative way. I took the hood off of my head and pulled my hair out of it, so that my hair was freely hanging down to my waist, that familiar golden ocean being seen by everyone.

"_Marianne_!" everyone cried as soon as they saw me walk in. They all knew my name, and I knew every single one of them. I smiled and nodded, walking over to the bar.

I sat on an empty barstool and leaned over, sighing, my breath coming back to me. "Rough night, Marianne, babe?" a voice asked. I looked up and smiled, seeing a familiar figure.

She wasn't thin, but she wasn't fat either. I'd call her a bit plump. She had bronze colored skin, like most people here did, and her blonde (almost white) colored hair was up in a style that she liked to call "the beehive", up on top of her head like a large beehive resting on her, all of the strands of her hair wrapped around each other. Her eyes were a weird golden color, matching the color of my hair, looking a bit magical and comforting. She wore her usual cream colored dress, the fabric so light and flowing that it moved with her whenever she walked. Her small feet were bare. This was Lierre Soeur, the owner of this place, but everyone called her 'Mama Lierre', even though she only had one daughter among everyone here.

"Hey, Mama," I said to the woman, smiling.

Mama Lierre had been like a mother to me for the past seven years, giving me food, a place to stay, and most of all, words of advice and showing me the love that had left my life when I was a twelve year old girl. She understood me, because she was in the same situation. Her parents were hanged by Frollo when she was a little girl, and her sister was burnt at the stake when she was in her twenties- and that sister's name was Magnifique, the same gypsy that Ciel and I had seen be burnt alive by Frollo when we were little girls. Mama Lierre had married a man who wasn't a gypsy, breaking all of the laws in society during that marriage. Two years after Lierre gave birth to her daughter, Jacqueline Soeur, her husband had passed away because of a rare disease- so rare that the doctors didn't have a name for it. This woman had lost everything in her life, and when Ciel introduced her to me seven years ago, Lierre didn't see a girl who had lost everything. She saw a girl who needed love, and she showed me that love.

"_Yeah_, pretty rough," I continued, Lierre and I pulling each other into an embrace. "The guards are getting _exhausted_ of me, though." I smiled a devilish smile, and Lierre immediately gave me a soft push away.

"Now _listen_, girl," she said, her rare strict side showing. Her golden eyes lost their weird glow, as they did when she was angry or punishing someone. And believe me, if anyone in Paris needed to be punished, it was me. "Just because everyone in Paris thinks you died seven years ago don't mean that you have the right to steal to survive. I know you're tryin' to please that aunt of yours and all, but sometimes you gotta do what's right, even though others may think it's wrong."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Mama, _really_, you've been giving me that same speech for the last six years," I said, turning to the bartender, a gypsy man who I recognized immediately. "Hey, Pierre."

"Hi, Cloaked Thief," Pierre said, chuckling a bit. "The _usual_?"

I nodded, and he got to work on the usual- a bright pink alcoholic beverage with an apple slice floating in it. I had no clue what was in it, and had no clue what it was really named. Pierre started calling it 'Marianne's Usual', since it was the only thing I'd had from this bar ever since I was old enough to start drinking, which was last year. The name 'Marianne's Usual' just stuck, and everyone had been calling it that for the last couple of months. It's much better than 'Pink Apple', what Pierre used to call it.

"_Marianne Amour_, you can't keep _stealin',_ it's a bad way to survive in this society," Mama Lierre kept saying, hints of comforting coming back into her voice. "You gotta get a job, make money that way, change your name so Paris won't think you lied to 'em, and find someone to marry."

I looked into her eyes. "_Mama_, I've been doing this for the past seven years, and I think it's working out _very_ well for me," I said, grinning. "Nathalie thinks that its my sole purpose in life to steal and please her, so _that's_ what I'm going to keep doing. Besides, I have a boyfriend who loves me _very much_, mama. And how many times have you heard us talking about marriage?" Pierre slid a glass of the pink liquid with a single slice of apple in it to me. I nodded and winked at him, putting two gold coins on the table. He quickly snatched them, stuffing them into his pocket.

Mama Lierre shook her head disapprovingly. "It's _your_ life, Mari, so you gotta decide how to live it." And with that, she walked away to the dance floor as the redhead that was singing finished up her song, singing the last words,

**And I will always**  
**Love…**  
**Yo-o-oooooouuuu**

Everyone cheered, and I clapped as the girl and I met eyes. I winked at her, she winked back, as if we had something between each other that only we knew of. The girl quickly bowed to her audience and ran up to me, sitting on the stool next to me.

"That crowd's easy to please," the girl said. She had pale skin, like her father, perfectly straight red hair that went up to the bottom of her shoulder blades, and her mother's golden eyes.

"With a voice like yours, they'll be pleased _every night_, Jacqueline," I said to Mama Lierre's only child.

She smiled. "I knew you'd say that," my friend said to me, turning to Pierre. "Pierre, whip me up some of Marianne's Usual!" She held out two gold coins. Pierre quickly snatched them, winked at Jacqueline, and got to work.

"He likes you," I said softly.

"Of _course_ he does," Jacqueline replied, rolling her eyes. "He's liked me ever since he came here."

_Here_ was the basement of Jacqueline's Candy Shop, the store that the Soeur family owned, named after Jacqueline Soeur herself. Twenty years ago, it had been completely renovated, and now it was a place for outcasts to live. Mama Lierre took in many outcasted gypsies, former thieves, et cetera, and gave them food to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to dance and drink the night away (that, of course, was an overstatement. The basement of Jacqueline's Candy Shop had a four drink maximum).

Ciel had began living here a few days after she was banished from the Court of Miracles, and introduced me to Mama Lierre. From then on, Ciel and I were basically a part of the Soeur family. I spent most of my time here, the rest of the time stealing or spending time with my aunt Nathalie, the woman who urged and pressed me to steal to please her. Nathalie knew that I was here, she was fine with it. She could care less about me.

This is 'Lierre's Haven', a haven for outcasts. And I fit right into the society of outcasts.

"You know where _Ciel_ is?" I asked Jacqueline as she was handed a Marianne's Usual. I continued taking sips of mine, the bubbling, soft flavor flooding my mouth, sending waves of energy through my body.

"I think she's in your room with Destin," Jacqueline said, having already drained her glass of its contents (what I'd expect from the fastest drinker in Lierre's Haven). "As usual. Probably making out."

"Speaking of _making out_," I said, smiling, scanning the room anxiously. "_Isaac's_ here, right?"

"No, just went out a few minutes ago, he said he'd be back soon," Jacqueline told me. "_Gosh_, Mari, how come _everything_ has to be about that sexy hot boyfriend of yours?"

"Because he's my _boyfriend_," I reminded Jacqueline, rolling my eyes, my mind back on the one I loved. "Some one in my life that you _lack_."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes, an awkward smile on her lips. "I'm_ working on that,_ Marianne. In fact, I have someone in mind."

"Really?" I asked, becoming excited for my friend. "Who?" It was exciting to know that after living in Paris for twenty years (Jacqueline was a year older than I was), Jacqueline finally had a man in mind, a man who could take care of her and love her, like I had-

"I'm not tell-ing!" Jacqueline said in a childish tone, waving a pointer finger in my face, smiling, her cheeks turning red.

I rolled my eyes at her and finished my Marianne's Usual, putting the glass back on the table and sliding it back to Pierre, who nodded to me and began cleaning the glass with a cloth.

"That's what I'd _expect_ from you, Jacqueline," I said to my friend in a bored, disappointed tone.

"Marianne! Jacqueline! Mari,_ oh,_ _Marianne_!"

Jacqueline and I quickly turned our heads to see an overly excited girl of nineteen running up to us from the wooden door at the end of the room.

She had straightened, dark brown, almost midnight black, colored hair that went up to her chin. Her eyes were so deep brown that they looked like the color of the sky at night, such a dark color that it looked like it was just her pupil taking up all the color of her eyes. Her skin was a bronze color, matching my eyes, like most gypsies' skin color. Her lips were colored a bubblegum pink, thin and slender, and, in the words of her boyfriend, Destin Copain, "soft and juicy". She wore a light purple blouse, one with long sleeves and a v-neck, and ruffled black skirt that went up to her ankles. The girl was holding the front of the skirt up to her knees as she ran, as not to trip herself. She skidded to a halt in front of us, smiling proudly, like she had just won a contest in which the prize was something huge, like a bunch of gold coins.

"_Marianne! Jacqueline!_" the gypsy said in an overly excited tone of voice, basically bursting with energy. "Oh, girls, you'll never even guess what just happened, girls, never!" Before we could even open our mouths to try and guess, the girl exclaimed, "Destin gave me a necklace! A necklace! Look! Look!"

It was then that I noticed a gorgeous necklace hanging from her thin neck. She held it out to show us, the smile growing even bigger on her face. The necklace was a beautiful one indeed. It had a thin chain that looked like it was made of pure silver, the light from the candles around the room shining off of it, reflecting small dots of light around the room. Hanging from the chain was a thin, solid silver of a heart, a small crystal embedded in the middle of it.

I smiled. "Oh, Ciel, that's _beautiful_," I said to my friend, stroking the silver heart with my thumb.

"This is the first time Destin's _ever_ given anything like that to you, isn't it?" Jacqueline asked, smiling, obviously happy for her friend.

Ciel nodded. "Ah, if he stays at this level of affection, then maybe he'll _propose_ to me!" the gypsy squealed, her smile growing bigger by the minute.

I completely stopped. "Pro_pose_?" I asked slowly, not sure if marrying Destin was the best thing for my best friend.

Ciel cocked her head to her right. "Yeah, _why_?" she asked, looking utterly confused, but I could still see traces of happiness in her eyes.

"Weren't you guys in a huge _fight_ two days ago?" I asked. "Which got to the point where you guys were_ throwing_ things at each other?"

Jacqueline nodded in recall. "Yeah, _I_ remember that fight," she said. "I comforted you for an hour afterwards. You couldn't stop cry-"

"But he got me a _necklace_!" Ciel whined, showing us her necklace again, basically shoving it in our faces.

"Are you _drunk_, Ciel?" I asked, shaking my head. "It must be the Black Moon. Yeah, Pierre puts extra alcohol in that. Or at least, I _think_ he does." Nobody really knew what was in the drinks Pierre served, but we had them anyway, just for the taste.

"Yeah, Ciel, you really need to get a_ hold_ of yourself," Jacqueline agreed, standing up and putting a comforting arm around Ciel's shoulders. "Lets, um, go to your room." Ciel rolled her eyes and puffed air out of her cheeks as Jacqueline led her friend through the wooden door at the end of the room. I looked around, making sure that my lover wasn't there, and followed them.

* * *

We walked down a long hallway full of similar wooden doors, all with brass lettering above them. We continued walking, Jacqueline going over the events of the fight that had happened between Ciel and her boyfriend a few nights ago, until we came to a door that was put towards the middle of the long hallway. The brass lettering above it read, 'CIEL GITANE & MARIANNE AMOUR'. Jacqueline twisted the dark colored knob to the right and pushed the door open. The three of us filed in the room silently, and she closed the door with ease.

This room wasn't a very large room, but wasn't very small either. The walls were painted white, the usual color of the walls here, and the floor had dark blue carpeting over it. There were no windows (since Lierre's Haven was a basement), of course. One opened, wooden door was at the far right corner of the room, leading to a closet full of clothes and accessories owned by Ciel and I. Two queen sized beds were at separate ends of the room, one with golden colored sheets and at least ten pillows as a decoration, the other with a few cream colored sheets and a large green comforter, with only two plump, snow white pillows resting on top of it.

Next to each bed was a small, wooden dresser with three drawers, each with two brass handles on each side. The dressers each had matching thin candles on brass candlesticks that were used to fill the room with light. Around the candles were books, jewelry, things that you'd usually see strewn about a young lady's bedroom. Now, Ciel and I couldn't care less about keeping our room neat, but tried to keep most things in order. We'd pick clothes up off the floor, but when it came to our dressers, we just piled our accessories and books on top of them, rarely stopping to clean them up.

A single, frameless mirror hung off the middle of the wall on the far side of the room, and wooden shelves were nailed to the walls, coats and clothes hung off of them carelessly. I had decorated the rest of the walls with pictures that Ciel and I had sketched and/or painted. Ciel was quite the artist, with the ability to draw anything from a chair to a person, and she told me that I was a skilled painter as well. Sketches and paintings of everything you could think of were pinned to the wall, the familiar work of Ciel and I meeting us as we walked into the room.

Ciel sat on her bed, the one with the many pillows and gold sheets. "Sorry, I guess I'm a bit excited," she said, finally seeming to come back to reality, looking down at her necklace, twisting the chain around in her thin fingers.

"A _bit_?" Jacqueline asked, sitting on my bed, the bed with the green comforter. As my friends spoke, I slipped out of my signature black cloak and hung it up on one of the shelves. Underneath it, I was wearing what I usually wore. It was a tiny snow white dress. It was completely sleeveless, starting at the top of my breasts. The neckline was cut down the middle in a v shape, sloppily tied together with a piece of white lace. The dress ended abruptly, stopping halfway down my thighs. Very small, something no girl in Paris would wear out. But I, being Marianne Amour, hated long dresses with sleeves, and cut every single dress I got- sorry, _stole_. I always cut the sleeves off and sometimes made the skirt much shorter, like I had this one.

"I think the words '_a bit_' is kind of an understatement," Jacqueline said, rolling her eyes. "Ciel, you _really_ need to get to bed, calm yourself down, and _think_." Jacqueline paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then continued, "I mean, I know that you have to marry someone to basically_ survive_ nowadays, but is Destin _really_ the right choice?"

I stepped out of my dark colored ballerina flats, the ones I usually wore, and tossed them onto the bed. The right shoe accidentally hit Jacqueline's head, making a soft tapping noise before it fell onto my bed. Jacqueline quickly picked the shoe up and forcefully threw it back at me, which hit me on the chest, falling to the floor. I gave a drunk laugh as I put both of the shoes back into the closet.

"The guy _fights_ with you every other night and then gives your presents the night afterwards, Ciel, is that the kind of guy you want to _marry_?" Jacqueline asked. Ciel looked like she could care less, her head on one of her pillows, silently moaning in sudden exhaustion. I could tell that she was faking it, though, as to get Jacqueline to shut up and continue bragging about the beautiful necklace she had just been given.

Suddenly, there was a soft knocking at the door. "Knock, _knock_," a familiar voice said. I shivered in anxiousness when I heard that voice, smiling excitedly. That familiar voice, sounding exactly like the strong yet gentle sound of heavy rain on the roof, so real and comforting. The voice that always made me shiver in excitement, fill up with warmth, that made my heart beat faster. "Can I come in?" Again, that rain on the roof sound filled my ears.

"Yeah, babe, you can come in," I comfortably answered, and the door opened. In walked the sole purpose of my existence, the reason I hadn't killed myself to be with my family members in heaven, the reason I had any love left in my life. The one person I gave all my love to. My sweet, protecting, comforting boyfriend, Isaac Beau.

* * *

**Cliffhanger? I don't really know. Anyways, please leave a review in the box below, it really helps!**

**So, we introduce Mama Lierre, Jacqueline, and ISAAC! Isaac's going to be a MAJOR character in this story, so I advise you to keep your eye on him!**

**Love you guys! ~Dragon Sister Kelsi**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

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**Not much to say, except a big THANK YOU to my favorite HoND writer of all time, Lady of Myth and Legends.**

**Here's chapter eleven!**

* * *

When I was as young as fourteen years of age, men and teenage boys tried to "pick me up" whenever I made an appearance at Lierre's Haven. They'd say their foolish, clumsy, failing pickup lines to me, such as "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past again?" and "You must be tired, because you've been running through my head all night." When almost any pickup line was used on me, I'd either smack the guy across the face and go to talk to Ciel or Jacqueline, or I'd just roll my eyes and walk away. It depended on how bad the pickup line actually was.

But Isaac was _much_ different, and I knew it from the first moment his attractive, gorgeous brown eyes looked into my bronze ones.

* * *

It was a week before my seventeenth birthday, and I was sitting at the bar, Pierre _constantly_ reminding me that I wasn't old enough to buy a drink. I was telling him that I was just sitting down for just a minute (when he and I both knew that it was _much_ more than a minute), when someone approached me- someone _very_ familiar.

He was tall, a few inches taller than I was, pretty muscular, and couldn't be a year or two older than I was. He wore a simple, loose, cream colored shirt and black slacks, with deep brown shoes. His eyes matched his shoes, a deep, chocolaty brown, his skin a pale color. His hair stood out to me, messy and blonde, reminding me of the way my father's hair was colored. There was something about him, a sense of being obnoxious and a nagging person, a sense of being a womanizer, having more than one girlfriend at once and being incredibly attractive (I'd met young men like that at Lierre's Haven, and believe me, I didn't like them). He seemed incredibly familiar, like I'd met eyes with him sometime in the past.

The young man walked up to me, leaned onto the bar, and gazed into my bronze colored eyes. My cheeks went completely red and gained a weird warmth. I clutched my chest with my right hand, my heart beating faster than it ever had in my life. By now, I was prepared for a cheesy pickup line that I wouldn't be able to resist. He opened his mouth, pale pink lips opening slightly-

"Hi."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "_That's_ your line?" were the three words that came out of my mouth. I should have said "Hi" back to him, like I always used to do, but when men approached me nowadays, I always expected them to give me their best lines. But this was completely normal- almost too normal for a place like Lierre's Haven.

He shrugged. "What's wrong with saying 'hi'?" he asked. His voice was incredibly unique. It sounded like, as I mentioned before, the strong yet gentle sound of heavy rain on the roof, an almost musical sound, patterns of raindrops everywhere.

I began shaking a bit, unable to think straight. "Um, uh, _nothing_!" I said, crossing my legs in nervousness. "Hi!"

Long story short, Isaac and I spent the night talking to each other, and the night after that, and the night after that. I had my first kiss with Isaac a week after the night I met him (which, I have to say, was one of the greatest moments of my life), and after two weeks of talking and sharing our stories, we were basically boyfriend and girlfriend- the first real boyfriend I ever had.

Now, here's the problem with me, Marianne Amour, having a boyfriend- I had a coldhearted aunt who basically controlled my life, and I was a thief. When I was thirteen, when all of the world thought that I had been dead for a year, dead along with my parents and younger sister Noemi, when I had been living with Nathalie in her cottage near the woods for a year, Nathalie began telling me that I "really needed to contribute to the family fund in some way".

The family fund was all of the money that had been left by my parents and the money that Nathalie made at her job as the assistant of the city seamstress (the world, by the way, thought that Nathalie was the only survivor of the fire- which, obviously, was wrong). Nathalie didn't make much at her job, but made enough for us just to get by. But this apparently wasn't good enough for Nathalie Fleur. She wanted more money and more power, and I had absolutely no clue why, and I still don't. Maybe to make up for the small loss of her sister, favorite niece, and brother-in-law

So when I was thirteen and a half years old, just a young teenage girl, yet with a large knowledge of the world and its cruelties, Nathalie gave me a simple task.

"Sneak into the bakery at midnight tonight, when the moon is right above our house," Nathalie told me strictly, and I remember how, at that moment, my eyes bulged out of their sockets and my heart seemed to stop. "Go through one of the top windows, use the skills you've learned from climbing trees. Sneak into the first floor, go into one of the cupboards, and take as many loaves of bread as you can put in this bag." At those words, she thrust a bag into my arms. It was made out of black velvet, and could be closed by pulling on a thick, gold string. "Then leave as quickly as you can and come back to me."

And so, that night, I did it. I can barely remember how I did it, or why I did it. All I know is that I did it. I committed my next crime, stole my first thing. And when I came to Aunt Nathalie, five loaves of bread in the black bag she gave me, she looked like the proudest person in the world. "Good job, Noemi, darling!" she said.

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "_Noemi_, Auntie?" I asked.

"_Oh_, oh sorry, _Marianne_," Nathalie corrected herself, suddenly becoming stiffer.

Nathalie began sending me on more missions to steal more items from the Parisians, and I kept committing more crimes for her. They were very small, so the citizens of Paris never had any hint of who was committing the crimes. On my fourteenth birthday, Aunt Nathalie gave me a gift that helped me discover the true thief inside me, the fake life of Marianne Amour.

"It's a cloak," my aunt told me, holding up what looked like a long dress to me. It was colored pitch black, like the midnight sky on a cloudless night. The dress had a long hood that could probably cover most of my face, had long sleeves that seemed like they could cover my hands, and a skirt that went past my toes. Nathalie quickly slipped it over my clothes, the thin, comforting black fabric covering my body. The hood only went up to my upper lip, leaving a space for my mouth and chin, which was the only part of my body that showed. Since the fabric was so thin, I could see through it quite well.

"This," Nathalie began, tying a thick, dark ribbon around my tiny waist, "is what you'll wear when committing crimes, so no one will suspect you." She paused, considering what she had just said. "Well, they'd never suspect someone who everybody thinks died two years ago, Marianne, but just in case."

Nathalie sent me to steal bigger things, and some of which were during the day now. Soon, I was stealing from the Parisians even when my aunt didn't give me orders to. Stealing became a part of me, running through my blood, and it was all thanks to Nathalie Fleur, my aunt.

_WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE_  
_THE CLOAKED THIEF_  
_Intelligent, sneaky thief. Has been stealing from the people of Paris for many months. _  
_Dresses in a long, black cloak._  
_REWARD: 1,000 PIECES OF GOLD_

I laughed when Nathalie first presented this poster to me, something she'd found while on her way home from work at the seamstress's shop. "Auntie Nathalie, this should mean nothing to you!" I said through chuckles, my cunning, thieving side showing. "I haven't been caught in three years, and I'll never be caught as long as I live. I can promise you that."

"I _hope_ you're right about that, Cloaked Thief," Nathalie coldly told me, the tips of her fingers white from clutching the poster. "I never wanted you to receive this much attention for your stealing." She placed it down on the coffee table in the middle of the sitting room and stood, the blood coming back to her fingertips. "Oh, well. I guess it would have happened soon, pet." And with that, she walked into the kitchen to prepare supper.

_The Cloaked Thief_. I liked it. It suited me well. A little _too_ well.

* * *

Aunt Nathalie wasn't angry at all when I confessed to her that I had a lover in my life. All she said was, "Tell me more about this boy." And so I did. I confessed everything I knew about Isaac Beau, everything that I could possibly say to her- to anyone- about my lover. I hesitated to tell Nathalie about Isaac at first, but as I was speaking to my aunt, I saw something in her eyes that I'd never seen before. A spark of light, a weird glow in her emerald green, knife-like eyes. It was a spark of hope. Hope.

"And do you_ love_ this Isaac boy, Marianne?" Nathalie asked me awkwardly, as if she doubted the fact that I was able to love anymore.

"Oh, of course, auntie," I said, smiling, thinking of the boy who made my cheeks get hot and made my heart start beating faster. "He makes me feel like no other boy has made me feel before. Oh, he's so attractive, kind, so _generous_-"

"I want to meet him."

I looked up quickly, my bronze eyes meeting my aunt's emerald colored ones. Her eyes, the eyes that always seemed to stab my skin the longer I looked into them, now flared with hope. Hope? What was she hoping for?

"Um, ye-yes, Nathalie," I told my aunt. "When?"

"As soon as possible," she replied, her voice more like a growl than a voice, only making my sudden nervousness grow. Why did she want to see Isaac? Was she mad at me for finding a lover?

Long story short, Nathalie_ adored_ Isaac. For the next week after my boyfriend and my aunt met, all Aunt Nathalie spoke about was Isaac- how good looking he was, how emotionally and physically strong he was, how kindhearted he was. I was surprised at this. Didn't she use that growling tone when telling me that she wanted to meet him? Didn't it seem like she was furious at me for gaining a boyfriend? Well, that didn't matter now. All that mattered is that I had pleased my aunt, which, by then, was the most important thing in the world for me, the top goal in my life- the _only_ goal in my life.

Nathalie barely liked _anything_ about me, I supposed. She always spoke about how annoying it was that bunches of my hair stuck out, like rolling waves in a golden sea. She raised her voice to me whenever I cut up a dress she had made me, making the skirt stop halfway down my thighs and making the neckline begin halfway down my chest. She constantly told me that my eyes were a completely ugly color, which I couldn't blame her for. That unique bronze color looked simply dreadful. I'd kill to have Nathalie's eyes, so shining and green, like two emerald green stars on her face.

But the one thing that Nathalie loved about me, the thing she _adored_ about my personality, was my taste in men. Sometimes Isaac came up in our conversations, and she'd point out that I had the incredible skill of finding and snatching one of the most attractive boys in Paris.

"In a few years, Marianne," Nathalie told me as she prepared dinner one night, "I'm going to have you married off in exchange for money. And do you know which man I will have you married to? Isaac Beau. He's absolutely _perfect_, he'll be the greatest nephew-in-law. It's a miracle, _really_, that he loves someone like _you_."

_Someone like me_. A thief. A liar. A cheater. Someone with absolutely nothing to lose. I'd confessed to Isaac that I was the Cloaked Thief, and he didn't care one bit. If I had told that to any other boy, they would have abandoned me. He was the only person able to see past that, and I loved that about him. It was a miracle, really, that he loved me. And I was proud of myself for finding him…

* * *

"Will you guys shut _up_ already?" Ciel groaned, rolling over in her bed on the other side of the room. "Really, I think you two have done_ enough_ talking tonight. Say _one_ more word and you guys are going to have a candle to the faces."

I smiled through the darkness, Isaac's strong, comforting arms wrapped around my small waist. "Eh, sorry, Ciel," I told my friend, my head hitting one of the two pillows on my bed. "You go back to sleep, we'll be quieter."

Ciel just gave a soft moan before rolling back over and closing her dark colored eyes. I can tell you from great experience, Ciel gets cranky and exhausted when she doesn't get enough sleep.

"You tired?" Isaac asked me, stroking my stomach with his strong hand.

"A little bit," I said, my head hitting the pillow. "I _guess_ I could go to bed."

"In that case," Isaac said, laying down next to me, his arms pulling my body up against his. "I guess we should get some sleep, then."

He was strong, he had the strength of about two men, but sometimes that strength got a little too much. I remember when I was eighteen, he grabbed me around the waist and squeezed me to hard that I had to stay in bed for a week with huge stomach pains. Sometimes, Isaac couldn't tell the difference between strong and gentle.

I nodded, smiling, my cheeks becoming hotter by the second, my flesh crawling with every word my lover said. "We'll talk more in the afternoon, then," I said, rolling over and facing my boyfriend. His deep, chocolaty colored eyes stared into mine, and I couldn't help but press myself up against him more, my face buried into his chest.

"Why not the morning?" Isaac asked, stroking my hair in that slow, strong way he always did. _Oh my gosh, I was in love with him._

"Nathalie wants to see me tomorrow morning," I told Isaac, closing my eyes in exhaustion, wrapping my legs around his. "Probably wants me to steal something again."

"_Hmm_," Isaac said. He didn't approve of my stealing either, but once or twice he helped me steal something by creating a distraction for the guards- those _stupid_, big guards, the guards who hadn't been able to catch me in _six years_.

"Well, goodnight, _Mari-beautiful_," he said, calling me that cute pet name he'd been calling me for the past few years. "See you tomorrow." He sighed lovingly, and we fell asleep, our arms wrapped around each other and our legs entwined.

* * *

When I was with Isaac, everything always felt so much like a dream. Like I was dreaming that this incredible, attractive boy loved me, and that I would soon wake up from this dream and realize that I didn't have a lover. And throughout the past few days, I hadn't been able to shake the feeling that I would wake up soon-_ very_ soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

"And make sure you don't fail, Marianne Amour, am I _clear_?"

Aunt Nathalie had barely changed at all since I was younger. She still had that white hair in a messy bun at the top of the left side of her head, light colored skin, emerald green, sparkling eyes, and her small nose and slender, crimson red lips. The only thing that had changed were the wrinkles on her face, becoming more numerous by the year, a small reminder that, though she was a beautiful woman, Nathalie Fleur was aging.

"Yes, auntie," I said, taking the cloak my aunt had sewn me years ago and beginning to slide it over my body, enveloping me into darkness- a representation of the darkness that came over me when I committed crimes, the physical darkness and the emotional darkness.

"Eh-eh-_eh_, Marianne," my aunt said, waving a thin and wrinkled finger at me. "You won't be needing that this time, pet. No, not at all." Nathalie stood up, a hair or two coming out of her white, messy bun, and she slowly walked towards me, carefully putting one shoed foot in front of the other with such a weirdly accurate precision.

I took the cloak off of my body and held it crumpled up in my arms, staring at my aunt with curiosity. Very rarely, she let me go out into the public without hiding myself, just to see if anyone really remembered me and recognized me. No one ever pointed me out and said that I was Marianne Amour and that I was dead, never. "Auntie, it there a problem?" I asked, obedient and curious. "You almost never let me go out without wearing my cloak-"

"Well this time, I want you to go without that, Marianne," Nathalie said, articulating her words as she quickly snatched the cloak out of my hands, surprising me. For a woman aging quickly, she had great speed and skill. "Your beauty will come in handy for this mission."

I froze, staring at my aunt as she walked towards the kitchen table that stood just to the left of the living room, throwing the cloak over a chair. I looked down at myself. I had grown much taller and thin over the years, with a tiny waist, "curves in all the right places" as Isaac told me once. My waist was small, my hips a bit larger than average. My shoulders were always back, making me look taller and making my back straighter. My face was thin, cheeks pushing back a bit when I smiled. Overall, there was absolutely nothing I would change about my appearance. I've had many people at Lierre's Haven tell me that I am the most beautiful girl they've ever seen. But in my heart, I know that the most beautiful girl ever to exist in all of history is Noemi Amour.

"Why do I need my looks, auntie?" I asked, walking towards her slowly. "All I have to do is have a look around the bell tower-"

"Oh, you have to do much more than just having a look around the bell tower, Marianne," Nathalie said, spinning around to look at me. Every stare was a knife in me, and I felt the pain immediately.

Her stares weren't as painful as the stares from Valentine Frollo, though. Once in awhile, while I was out and about, hiding in the normal crowd of Parisians, I spotted the Frollo singing on the steps of Notre Dame for gold coins (like that drama queen wasn't rich enough). She never stared directly at me anymore, she assumed I was dead, like all the other citizens of Paris. But once in awhile, I caught a glimpse of her gray, shadowy colored eyes. And when I did, it was like a knife cutting my ankle. The cuts weren't as deep as when she used to stare directly into my eyes, a stare that made the knives sink deep into my flesh and wound me eternally. Sometimes, I rolled up me sleeves and looked back at that wound, and remembered the pain. It still hurts, but I try to forget that it's there. That makes the pain seem to partially go away.

"I know that you use your charms quite often in life, Marianne," Nathalie said to me, sinking into a dining chair and continuing to look at me. I tried to keep my mind off of the knives that were giving me cuts on my arms and legs, and decided focus on her words instead. "Isaac tells me that you seduce him on nights that he's in the mood to sleep alone."

That was completely true. Just a few nights ago, Isaac told me that he wanted to sleep alone, in his own bed in his own room. You know what I did? I pressed my body right up against his and kissed him slowly, all over the face, putting this look of complete desire in my eyes, and I kept on doing that until he was begging me to climb into bed with him.

Nathalie always smiled when mentioning Isaac, the attractive boy who I had "snatched up one night at a bar for outcasts", as she told the story. Whenever he came to visit, she treated him as if he was her own son, talking to him and smiling, things that she had never done to me in her entire life. I knew very well why she did this to him, why she thought of him as a relative. It was because she knew, Isaac knew, I knew, that Isaac and I were going to be married.

I had reached marriageable age, and I'd found a boy who loved me as much as I loved him. Our relationship was much more than just a normal boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, it was something that couldn't be destroyed, couldn't be broken no matter what happened. Right now, I was waiting for Isaac to propose to me so that we could have a wedding and officially be together in God's name. Isaac and I talked about the future quite often, both of us knowing that we'd definitely be together, and had our lives all planned out. We'd be married in Lierre's Haven, since we couldn't be married in an official church- no one could know my identity, no one could know that I lived (Nathalie had told me constantly that my true identity had to stay secret. She's never revealed to me the true reason that I cannot tell the world that I survived). After the wedding, we would move into a house in a small village far from Paris, a village with rivers, trees, lakes, basically a paradise for us.

We'd never have kids. Isaac wanted kids, he really did, but I didn't want them- I couldn't want them. I was a thief. A liar. A cheater. A horrible, everyday criminal. How could I possibly succeed as a parent if my children had to face the fact that their mother, the woman who gave them all of her love and gave birth to them, was a criminal? It would be setting a horrible example, and if my children wanted to follow in my footsteps, how could I live with the guilt of having raised criminals? If I keep it from them, they're bound to find out sometime, and then how will they react? Will they disown me? Deny that they even know me? And even if I do give up my thieving ways, they're still bound to find out about what I was in the past. So having kids was a huge 'no'. I couldn't. I absolutely couldn't.

"He's also told me that you used to wink at boys in a flirtatious manner before you two got together," my aunt told me, speaking the truth as well. I've been told by a bunch of guys at the Haven that I was very good at being cute and flirty, but that was the young, teenage Marianne. The current Marianne is irresistibly sexy and confident, and at that time, I liked her that way. Beautiful eyes, stunning hair, a hot figure, and a way with words that could make you melt.

"That's true, auntie," I said, smiling, running a thin finger over my long, dark colored eyelashes.

"I know it's true, pet," Nathalie replied, giving me a small smile. "My nephew-in-law wouldn't lie to me, would he?" She smiled a bit bigger, thinking about my future as Isaac Beau's wife, before looking back into my eyes and becoming serious.

"You know that there's a bell-ringer, Marianne."

A tidal wave of memories crashed onto my brain, and I remembered- oh, crap, there is a bell ringer. It had been years since I recalled the bell ringer of Notre Dame. He had disappeared from my brain with all of the happy memories from my childhood, and I hadn't thought about him since I was an early teen.

Mom and dad used to tell me about the bell ringer, a deformed boy my age who was forced to be taken in by Frollo. He lived in the bell tower of Notre Dame, I had been told, and my father had predicted that he was going to grow up thinking he was a monster. Whenever the bell ringer was brought up in my household, I'd think of my mother's "darkness comes in different forms" quote. I felt sorry for him, but since I had never met him or seen him, I felt as if I didn't feel sorry enough.

I'd come into close contact with the bell ringer multiple times. The first was after Magnifique Soeur was burned at the stake, when Ciel and I were singing to Magnifique (I was sure that Magnifique had heard our song and was now peacefully resting in Heaven). I had heard his footsteps and ran after him, but had only talked to him for a few seconds without seeing his face when my mom called me down. His voice sounded like bells, strong and musical, catching my attention. That encounter had only caused my curiosity to grow about him.

I don't know if the bell ringer was there when Ciel and I snuck into the bell tower the night that my family was killed in La Nuit De La Dark Fire. I had sworn that I could hear footsteps behind us. They were too light to be an adult's, probably a child around my age. I'd had this strange feeling that someone was following Ciel and I that night, listening to every word we said. And I had an even stranger feeling that it was the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

Quasimodo. That was his name, as I remembered my parents saying. Half-formed. _Quasimodo_.

"Yes, auntie, I do," I said, looking down at my shoes, lost in thought about the bell ringer whom I'd never laid eyes on.

"Now, if he approaches you, Marianne, use your charms," Nathalie ordered me, walking past me and to the window that overlooked the few houses in front of us. In the distance, you could see Notre Dame, standing tall, its twin bell towers scraping the sky. "Say hello. Smile a little. Even wink at him if you have to." Nathalie turned to face me. "Am I clear, pet?"

I nodded. "Yes, auntie," I replied. "But, auntie, if you don't mind me asking, why do I need to look around the bell tower? Am I looking for anything specific?"

Nathalie smiled, her thin lips curving upwards. "Actually, yes, pet, there is." Nathalie took a few steps towards me, her smile becoming bigger. "Find and tell me the exact location of a bell called Little Sophia." Nathalie turned back towards the window, gazing out at Notre Dame with a crazed, hungry look in her eyes.

I, struck with confusion, opened my mouth to ask my aunt a question about this "Little Sophia" bell. "Do not ask me any more questions, pet," Aunt Nathalie told me coolly. "Get on with it. You don't have all day."

"Yes, auntie," I said, speaking softer now, focusing more on my thoughts than my actual words. The bell ringer! I was going to see and meet the bell ringer! I was filled with a kind of excitement that I couldn't explain, a sudden burst of energy and anxiousness that a little kid would normally have. I quickly started towards the door.

"Oh, and Marianne."

I turned to face my aunt, who was still looking out the window, completely avoiding eye contact with me.

"Put your hair up with something. Leaving it up like that will only cause the Parisians to remember you. It's your most notable feature, you know. A disgusting feature, but notable."

I rolled my eyes and ripped a long piece of white fabric off of the bottom of my dress, making it shorter than it already was. I wasn't afraid to roll my eyes at my aunt, and I definitely wasn't afraid to talk back to her. "I love how you always tell me that something about me is horrible, auntie," I said sarcastically. "Will you stop pointing those things out?"

"I have no time to argue with you, _pet,_ now get on with it," was the reply my aunt gave me in a very strict tone.

I quickly put my long, thick hair into a large bun at the top of my head with the fabric from my outfit, giving my aunt another eye roll. "Whatever," I muttered before starting out the door…

* * *

It had been years since I had last been in the bell tower, and yet I remembered everything about it. All of the bells, formed in every shape and size imaginable. The wooden beams that crisscrossed above my head. And most importantly, the messy curtain that led to the bell ringer's replica of Paris. I hesitantly walked through the wooden door, shutting it behind me before I took a look around. Yes, everything was the same as it had been when I was here on La Nuit De La Dark Fire with Ciel. Absolutely nothing had changed.

Slowly, I made my way up the ladder that led to the platform that held the replica of Paris. I stopped dead in my tracks, hearing the sound of footsteps, sounding cautious and almost unsure (trust me, after years of stealing, I knew if someone's footsteps were cautious and unsure). A jolt of excitement ran through me, and I almost fell off of the ladder in anxiousness. It was the bell ringer. He knew I was here.

Quickly, I took my hair out of the bun it was in, causing it to fall to my waist, a sea of gold with waves sticking out everywhere. I wrapped the piece of fabric around my wrist, listening for the sounds of more footsteps. The sound came, getting much louder now, and I could hear someone else's breathing. My heart started beating faster, and I remembered that the bell ringer was deformed, beyond hideous. At that moment, I felt an emotion that I hadn't felt in years- fear. Fear of what the bell ringer, this Quasimodo person, could look like. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh-

I shook my head, denying myself that I could possibly feel fear at this stage of my life as a thief, and charged up the ladder, quickly pulling the curtain aside. Again, I was met with the makeshift table with the replica of Paris on top of it, and the broken glass chandelier handing above the table, casting points of light all over the room, fairies flying across the bell tower.

My gaze went right to the replica of Paris. Only a little of it had changed over the years. The replica of Notre Dame was still there, the largest thing in the replica city, and the shops and people were still there. A few new houses had been added, as well as more people. I grinned devilishly when I saw the replica of The Cloaked Thief, taking the small figure of myself in my thin palm and examining it. My dark cloak that covered all parts of my body was coated with a glossy, black paint. It was thin and tall, just like I was.

I smiled, and unknowingly spoke, "Yep. You got it all in there, bell ringer. It's perfect."

I set the figure of myself down and looked to the replica of Notre Dame, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the figure of the bell ringer, shaped completely different than all of the other figures, making it easy for me to point him out and remember him. He was there, all right, on top of the bridge between the twin bell towers. I sighed, moving my gaze away from the replica of Paris and looked around the bell tower.

I knew that the bell ringer was close by me. I could hear someone's breathing, and felt a strange presence near me. He was going to approach me, I knew it, or I would approach him. No, I guessed that I was just going to let him come to me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**SO SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE! I've been busy with school, play rehearsal, studying for midterms, and my other fanfiction series.**

**Well, not much else to say. Here's chapter 13!**

* * *

Now what about that bell that auntie wanted me to find? Little Sophia? I couldn't find her without the help of the bell ringer. I didn't know the names of the bells as well as someone who'd been here for nineteen years. My heart skipped another beat when I thought of the bell ringer, swearing that I heard someone else's soft, steady breathing. I didn't want to see the bell ringer, I really didn't, and I had a feeling that he didn't want me to see him. So maybe he'd show me Little Sophia from the shadows. I didn't really know the bell ringer or his ways.

I had to stop shivering, for God's sake! I was The Cloaked Thief, I was the most notorious thief in all of Paris, and never in my life had I shivered with fear during a mission from my Aunt Nathalie. Never have I had any fear on a mission from auntie. I couldn't have any fear, I just couldn't. But if I had been on countless missions, stealing hundreds of items and money from Parisians, then why was I scared on this particular mission, when all I had to do was look at a bell?

Use your charms. Say hello. Smile a little. Even wink at him if you have to. Auntie's words echoed in my head. Yes, I understood what I had to do now. I had to convince him to show himself to me, and pretend to not be scared of him. Get him to show me around the bell tower. Smile. Wink. Make myself look as cute as possible. Yes, I had to turn back into my past self, my 'flirty and cute' self.

Okay, I thought. Okay. I would pretend to not be afraid of him, no matter how much of a monster he was.

I put on the flirtiest smile I could- my ruby red lips curved upwards into a small, cute, kind of sky and innocent smile. A friendly smile. I closed my bronze colored eyes and spoke the first words that came to my head.

"I know you're there, bell ringer."

No response.

Those were stupid words to say, I guessed. I really didn't know how to get the bell ringer to come out. He hadn't come out when I was five years old and he saw me, he hadn't come out when I was twelve years old and he saw me-

That was it!

"I take it that you remember me," I spoke, as calmly and gently as I possibly could. "We first spoke fourteen years ago, after Magnifique Soeur was burnt at the stake. I was very young then, about five years old." I paused, my eyes closing again. "I'm not sure about this, but I came here with my friend Ciel when I was twelve. You saw me then, I believe." I paused again, opening my eyes slowly, the weird bronze color showing again. "I heard footsteps near us, so I assume that you were there." My body had stopped shaking, and my heartbeat was steadying itself.

I slowly put my hand over my heart and continued. "I'm assuming that you heard about the fire that killed Mr. and Mrs. Amour and their two daughters," I said, shaking again when I thought about La Nuit De La Dark Fire. The last time I was here was the night that they died, and I couldn't stop imagining the large pillar of smoke climbing into the air, so dark and mysterious, bringing death to my whole family. "Well, judging by the fact that I was here when the fire was going, you've probably figured out that I survived." I swallowed, but nothing went down. Nothing at all. This place brought back far too many memories. Dark memories.

"I survived," I repeated, as if to convince myself that I was alive. But at that moment, when I was speaking to the bell ringer of Notre Dame, I really didn't know if I survived the fire. That fire sucked the life out of me like it had my parents and sister, the ending point of my carefree, joyous life.

In that bell tower, at that very moment, I realized that every single day after La Nuit De La Dark Fire, I was alive, but I wasn't living.

I blinked away the tears. No, no, no. I couldn't cry here. Not at all. I had to be flirty and cute. I had to be strong.

"Marianne."

My eyes opened all the way as soon as I heard that familiar, life changing voice say my name. I was startled by the sudden voice, but at the same time, it calmed me down. Oh, what a sound that was! That voice, the voice of a male, sounded just like the bells of Notre Dame.

His voice sounded like the bells, when they rang in the early morning, what I woke up to after a night of sleeping with Isaac. I'd roll over, see him sleeping right next to me, and awaken him with a kiss. He'd say, "Good morning, Mari-beautiful", and we'd do more kissing until Ciel would charge in and remind us that we had to be out of bed and dressed by noon.

His voice sounded like the bells, when they rang in the evening, the familiar chiming reminding me that I had to either return to Lierre's Haven, because Isaac, Ciel, and Jacqueline were waiting for me, or that I had to meet Nathalie at her house. The bells guided me, told me where I should be and when, like caring sisters and brothers that didn't want me to get lost. And that voice, that beautiful, musical voice, sounded just like the bells.

I froze, the sound of the bell-ringer speaking my name echoing in my head. "Marianne. Marianne. Marianne." I wanted to hear him speak more, wanted to hear his musical, gorgeous voice again.

"What?" was the first word that came out of my mouth.

"Marianne," his voice came again, and the sound of bells filled my ears. "Your name is Marianne."

I paused before answering, in a voice no louder than a whisper, "Yes."

We stood there in silence, the bell-ringer and I. I hated that silence. I wanted to hear his voice more. It was musical, strong and real, but at the same time, he spoke in a gentle tone, speaking my name with such beauty that I could barely start to describe it. I could listen to him talk for hours.

But I knew that I had to face him in person.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and continued to speak, trying not to cry again. "And your name is Quasimodo," I spoke gently. I hadn't said his name with nearly as much beauty as he had said my name with, but hey, I tried.

He was silent for a few moments, until he spoke, "Yes. Yes, th-that's my name."

I managed a small smile. "Where are you, Quasimodo?" I asked, looking into the shadows. "It would be easier for us to talk to each other if I knew where you were."

There was a small pause before Quasimodo's musical voice said, softer this time, "To your right."

I turned to the right, and could barely make out a figure in the darkness. I couldn't start to describe what they looked like, since I couldn't see them at all. All I could tell was that they were there, standing, watching me. I began walking towards them, taking small, slow steps, being as cautious as possible. I didn't want to startle him, and I didn't want to be startled by him, either. I stopped when I was just about an inch away from the shadows, barely in the light.

I gave another small smile, although I really didn't feel like smiling. Half of my brain was thinking about the bell ringer, the other half was thinking about the first time I lay eyes on the pillar of smoke climbing into the sky. God's sign to me that my family was slowly burning to death, God's sign to me that I was alive. Well, I wasn't. I was never alive, really.

Quasimodo had no clue that the girl in the bell tower with him was dead inside.

I stared into the darkness, able to make out more of Quasimodo's figure. I cocked my head to the right, squinting, and was able to see some of him. He looked pretty short, almost a foot shorter than I was. I stared more and noticed that there was a large hump coming out of his upper back.

'Ah,' I thought. 'So he's a hunchback.'

"I remember," I began, "how shy you were when I first spoke to you at age five. I told you to come out of the shadows, and you stepped away from me." No words came from his lips, so I continued. "I've been through a lot since that day. I've witnessed pretty horrific things, and-" I trailed off. What I was about to say may make him come out of the shadows, but would I be afraid of him? Would I lose my strong side and scream? I dug my nails into my palms, something I always did to get rid of the emotional pain. No. I had to do this. Not just for auntie, but for my mother and father, who always told me that the bell ringer had nobody. Nobody at all.

I gulped and tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimper. My eyes began to get watery and I dug my nails deeper and deeper into my skin, making scars on my palms. I hadn't faced this kind of emotional pain since the night of my family's death.

My emotions were returning to me as I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I saw me at age twelve, stroking the face of the bell-ringer figure and noting how different it was from the rest of the people in Paris. I saw Ciel, begging me to leave, telling me that this was someone's home and that we were intruding. I saw the way I yelled at Ciel for being afraid of the bell-ringer, telling her that she didn't understand, when I didn't even understand myself. And lastly, I saw-

That was it. The damn burst. Tears trickled down my cheeks, running further down my face as I thought about my eyes widening, my heart stopping, and the sudden realization that the fire was eating up my house, my family, my life.

Yes, I understood it now. That fire took away more than just my family and my house. It took away my belonging. It took away my emotions. It took away my goodness. It took away my protection. It took away my very soul.

And most importantly, it took away me.

I sank to my knees and covered my face with my hands. I wasn't Marianne Amour. Marianne Amour was the physically and emotionally beautiful girl, the daughter of Minister Amour. I wasn't that girl anymore. The Cloaked Thief had taken over me, stolen my identity, taken me away from who I truly was. And now, crying into my hands in front of the disfigured bell ringer of Notre Dame, I didn't know who I was anymore.

Maybe I was nobody. Maybe the deadness inside of me had turned me into nothing.

Suddenly, I was aware of someone's presence, someone standing over me. I felt a soft, gentle, comforting hand on my shoulder, causing my saddened emotion to heal, and the entire world stopped for a moment. My tears ceased to flow from my eyes, and I removed my hands from my face. I opened my eyes and rubbed the tears out of them, still looking down at the floor. The world was silent at that moment, and it seemed like there was nobody in the universe except for the person that was gently touching my shoulder and I. It was just us.

And somehow, I pulled emotional strength out from somewhere, somewhere deep inside me that had been covered by my new identity, and I was able to look up at the person who had their hand on my shoulder.

That was the first time I met eyes with the hunchback of Notre Dame.

And honestly, just looking up at him was one of the most difficult things I had ever done in my life.

But as soon as I looked at him, into those heart-thumpingly beautiful pale blue eyes, I realized that not all of Marianne Amour had left me. I still had some of her left inside of me, inside of my strong heart. I didn't draw back in fear or run out screaming like an average human being would do. Instead, through all the emotional pain that had built up inside of me, through all of the grief in my soul, my slender, ruby colored lips curved upwards, and I managed a smile.

I didn't have to pretend to be scared of him. Because in reality, I wasn't afraid. 'I am obviously the strongest person in the world,' I thought as I looked at him. He was deformed, yes, with a hump on his upper back and a disfigured face, but he didn't scare me. I wouldn't call him ugly at all. I'd just say that people over exaggerate the bell-ringer's appearance. Actually, he was kind of…

…cute.

Not over the top sexy, like Isaac, but Quasimodo had some kind of adorable charm to him, something that made me smile.

I smiled a bit bigger, taking in his shocked expression. He was probably guessing that I'd run away in terror or call him a monster, something along those lines. Instead, he got a smile from this physically pretty girl that barely knew him.

"You're not ugly at all, Quasimodo," I began, my cheeks getting a bit red from smiling too much. "I don't mean this in a _flirtatious_ way, but you're actually kind of cute."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**I AM SO SORRY!**

**Well, I kind of forgot about this story for about a month... I was really busy with the play (which turned out to be a huge success!) and school and stuff, but now I'm back and I'm determined to not take a big break this time!**

**Well, I was looking through my stories when I saw this one, and I noticed that this has SIX FAVORITES and FOUR FOLLOWS...**

**Okay, when did ****_that_**** happen!?**

**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!**

**I'm going to start shouting out my reviewers like I do in my Kung Fu Panda series. Here are the kind people that have been reviewing my story so far!**

**Lady of Myth and Legends**

**TheOC'sAristocracy**

**REVIEW if you want a shoutout in the next chapter!**

**And I'd like to shout out the fanfiction author CharlieGreene, who has written my favorite HoND crossover, The Princesses of Notre Dame. It's about the six original Disney princesses (Cinderella, Aurora, Jasmine, Belle, Snow White, and Ariel) coming to Notre Dame for two months for Le Jour d'Amore. It's a BelleXQuasi fic, and I REALLY love it! I think you all will love it as well!**

**Okay, here's the chapter! Hope you all enjoy!**

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The hunchback took a step back in disbelief. "You're… you're not afraid of me?" he asked, in such a shocked tone that I gave a soft chuckle over his bell sounding voice. This had probably never happened to him before. He probably had never met someone who wasn't afraid of him, or didn't think he was ugly.

I shook my head, my golden colored hair swaying from side to side ever so slightly. That was one of the downsides of having long hair- that it never fell the way I wanted it to. "_No_. No, I _couldn't_ be," I replied, standing up to face him. It was then that I realized how short he was. He stood around six inches shorter than I was, much shorter than the average Parisian man (I really needed to stop comparing him to average men. He wasn't average, as all who looked at him and knew of his lifestyle could tell).

"I'm only afraid of one thing, Quasimodo," I continued. "And that's fire." Strange. Now that I was looking at Quasimodo, it was like I had been completely healed. Like all the sadness inside of me had blown away. I didn't tear up when mentioning the death of my family, I didn't sink to my knees and cry like I had a moment ago. It was as if God Himself had come down from heaven and healed me with a healing touch, removing all negative emotions.

And me being afraid of fire… I couldn't tell if I was lying or not when I said that. Fire took everything away from me, yes, but I wasn't afraid of it now. I was only afraid of large fires, or when a fire is lit in an area where it can spread quickly.

He smiled. "I don't blame you for that, Marianne," Quasimodo said to me, his notable, bell-sounding voice filling my ears. _Gosh_, I loved that voice.

I kept the smile on my face. It wouldn't go away, and I didn't try to make it go away. My eyes shifted to the large bells above us, which were overlooking our meeting. "I don't mean to change the subject, Quasimodo, but I can't help but notice the bells," I began. "They're _really_ pretty. Not to mention unique." I looked from one to the other, my eyes like two frogs, the bells like lily pads, my eyes hopping from bell to bell.

I brought my gaze back down to Quasimodo, who had a hopeful look in his eyes. Streaks of happiness were painted across his face. "Would you like to see them _closer_, Marianne?" he asked me, still smiling.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that," I said, blinking a bit, a failed attempt to bat my eyelashes at him. His voice and his eyes were beautiful, so beautiful that I seemed to have forgotten how to be flirty.

"Come with me, then," Quasi told me, and cautiously took my small hand in his large one. A jolt of energy went through my fingertips as his left hand closed around my right, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands were warm and comforting, his touch gentle. It could never be compared to Isaac's touch, which was very strong and very real.

I kept looking down at our joined hands as Quasi led me around his home and to a large wooden platform. A few of the bells hung so low to the ground that they ended at my ankles, and I could look and stand inside of the large, bronze instruments. Quasimodo slowly let go of my hand, and it was then that I felt the coldness of the air around my palm.

"Stay here," Quasi quickly ordered me, and with a weird sense of agility, jumped from the wooden beams and onto a bell, grasping its middle with his strong arms. It was surprising that he could do something like that. He seemed so heavy at first, but had jumped onto the bell as if his bones were hollow. It was as if he had been doing this his whole life (which he probably had been).

He began introducing the bells to me, like they were people. "These are Jean-Marie-" he jumped onto the next bell, "Anne-Marie-" he jumped onto yet another bell, "and Louise-Marie. They're triplets, you know."

I watched him as he slid down the bell, gracefully landing onto the wooden floor beneath Louise-Marie, his eyes meeting mine. Those eyes- oh, I could go on forever about them! They were beautiful, probably one of the prettiest pairs of eyes I've seen in my life. They were a gorgeous shade of blue, like a late spring sky without clouds. I think that those eyes contained most of the charm that made Quasimodo cute as a whole.

A bit more of the charm rested in his hair. It was a bit string-like, constantly falling into his face, and was colored a playful shade of red. I recognized it as the exact color of a dress that Nathalie had sewn me when I was fourteen, a dress that I still owned. I wondered if I could still fit into it. I'd have to find it and try it on, maybe cut some parts of it off like I had done to all my other dresses.

"Do they have a mother?" I asked, becoming interested in the bells, wanting to get to know them more. I had heard them sing all of my life, their melody filling the air and creating the music that all of Paris loved, but never had I been this close to them, and never had I learned this much about them. "I mean, if they're sisters, they must have a mom, or other family."

Quasimodo nodded, walking back up to me so that we were only about a foot apart. "That one," he replied, pointing to one of the bells. This one was the largest bell out of all, at least five times bigger than the rest, and looked very old. It stood alone among the bells, with space around it so that it could be rung harder. "Her name is Big Marie."

I smiled, nodding. "It suites her very well." I turned back to Quasimodo, and his eyes met mine. Again, a large jolt of energy went through me when his eyes met mine. They were so… pretty. Man, if Isaac knew what I was thinking, he would have been beyond furious.

But just because I thought Quasi was cute didn't mean that I had a crush on him. That was what living in Lierre's Haven had taught me.

This was probably one of the weirdest moments of my life. Yes, I was happy about it, and yes, I felt good having made friends with someone who hadn't made a single friend in their life, but it was weird. I'd heard so much about Quasimodo, from my deceased parents, and from some local Parisians, and now I was proving the bad rumors wrong.

There was one day, just about a month ago, that I had my hair up in a bun and was walking around Paris with Jacqueline. We'd just gone swimming in the Seine (something that I loved doing, but I'll get into that later), and our hair was still a bit damp. The smell of the large river surrounded us, and it was obvious where we'd spent the last few hours.

Anyway, there we were, Jacqueline and I, walking around the streets of Paris, taking in the beauty of the area, when we approached the steps of Notre Dame, and guess what famous diva was sitting right on those steps, talking to her "friends"? None other than the famous Valentine Frollo.

Valentine had changed only a little over the years. She was now nineteen, my age, and looked even more beautiful- on the outside, that is. Her eyes were a ghostly gray, like windows into a haunted house, windows into her broken and dark soul. Her hair was the color of the midnight sky, soft, and fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Her skin was a soft, peachy color, a few shades lighter than my skin. Any person could point out how her nose was just the right size, her lips were smaller than average, her waist was thin but her hips were large, and (and, to me, this is the most disgusting part about her appearance) how each of her breasts were just smaller than the size of my head.

Yes, to the men of Paris, Valentine Frollo was their dream girl. But to Valentine, those men were just ordinary Parisians with crushes on her. To the young Frollo, it wasn't that big of a deal.

I dug my nails into my palms when I saw her disgustingly gorgeous figure. Oh, how I hated her! How she showed off her looks and talent when she sang, how she always licked her lips when she looked at an attractive man, how she stressed that her uncle was the minister of justice and that she could have someone burnt or hanged in an instant. She always showed off her outer beauty and created an illusion that she had inner beauty. But that's just what I hated about her! How can someone possibly have outer beauty if inner beauty didn't exist to them? How could Valentine possibly be beautiful on the outside if she had no true beauty?

Valentine was talking with some girls our age, probably girls that she barely even knew (and didn't care to get to know). Her legs were crossed, and her face looked a bit flushed. For some reason, she reminded me a bit of a damsel in distress.

"Oh, yes, I've seen the bell ringer of Notre Dame," she said, and for the first time in my life, Valentine's voice sounded shaky and weak, like she was speaking of her worst fear. Like just saying those words had made horrifying images flash through her mind.

I had stopped, grabbing Jacqueline by the arm to stop her as well, and turned to face the young Frollo. I remembered what my parents had said about the bell-ringer, about no one loving him, how he would grow up thinking that he was a complete and total monster. I stared at Valentine and listened to her words.

"Then why don't you tell us about him, Val?" one of the girls around Valentine asked. This girl was much younger than the other girls, looking like she was only ten years old, somewhere around there.

Valentine gulped, giving a small shiver, and I rolled my eyes. _That drama queen_. "I'll try, girls, I'll try," she said, rubbing her gray colored eyes with a small, thin hand. The young Frollo turned her body, facing the top of Notre Dame, her eyes resting on the twin bell towers. She bit her lip slightly before continuing to speak. "It was only a month ago, a few days before my nineteenth birthday. Uncle Claude once told me that he had found the bell ringer when the monster was a baby, abandoned on the steps of this very cathedral, and taken him in out of the goodness of his heart."

It took all of my strength to keep from laughing or snorting at Valentine's statement about her uncle. _Goodness of his heart_! How could she possibly call a man who has killed hundreds because of their culture good? Valentine Frollo could be a comedian.

"My uncle was constantly going into the bell tower," Valentine continued, tearing her gaze from the bell tower and back to the girls that surrounded her. "He told me that he went only to check on the bell ringer, bring him food, things like that. Uncle Claude constantly reminded me that I should never go into the bell tower, for the bell ringer was a monster, so ugly that I would be blinded by his looks. Either that, or the bell ringer would hurt me because of his dark soul, my uncle said."

I cocked my head to one side, digging my nails into my palms in anger. Dark soul? What did she mean? How could she believe that the bell ringer had a dark soul without getting to know him first?

"Unfortunately, my mother was a very curious person, and I had inherited that trait," Valentine continued, looking down at her hands, which were pressed against the stone steps of Notre Dame. "I wanted to see this bell ringer for myself, to look at his deformed body with my own eyes. And so, one night, I went into the cathedral and into the bell tower." She bit her lip again, pausing for dramatic affect. The girls around her gasped, leaning in for more of the young Frollo's story. Those poor girls, hypnotized by Valentine's outer beauty, hypnotized into following her everywhere.

"Long story short," Valentine said, "I woke up the bell ringer that night. As soon as I realized that he was awake and near me, I told him that I was Frollo's niece, and if he didn't come out and show his face to me at once, I would put in a bad word with his master." She paused again, sighing as the girls leaned in closer, wanting to hear more of the frightening tale, wanting to find out more about the "monster" that was the bell ringer.

"He stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight," Valentine continued, dramatically shivering to show how fearful the event really was, "and it was then that I regretted ever going into the bell tower." I leaned in closer. What was so bad about the bell ringer that everyone was afraid of? It was only his appearance that scared everyone. I figured that if someone came along that could easily see past looks, they could get to know the person he really was, and find out if he had inner beauty or not. I wanted someone to do that. I wanted someone to get to know him and either prove the world right or wrong. And I had no clue that it would be me.

"Oh, he was so _ugl_y!" she cried, stressing the word 'ugly'._ 'So are you, Valentine Frollo,'_ I thought, listening carefully. Valentine continued to speak, a disgusted and fearful look appearing on her beautiful face. "The way his body is shaped is utterly disgusting, his face is just hideous, and overall, he's a complete _monster_!"

That was _it_. I'd _had it_ with that damn story. I gripped Jacqueline's arm with a large amount of force that caused she suddenly jerked backwards, and practically dragged her away from the cathedral.

How funny it was, really, that Quasimodo was nothing like the way the diva of Notre Dame described him.

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**And there's the chapter! How did you all like it? Tell me in the reviews! Please, don't be shy, show this story some love and tell me what you liked or disliked about the chapter!**

**Thanks for all of the favorites and follows, guys!**

**Later!**

**~Dragon Sister Kelsi**


	15. Chapter 15

**So this story has 10 favorites and 6 follows...**

**When the hell did ****_that_**** happen?!**

**Thank you all SO MUCH for loving this story, I'm very excited to keep working on it!**

**OMG ALL OF YOU PLEASE REVIEW! Reviews are really what keep me going! Plus all reviewers get a shout out in the next chapter!**

**Our chapter 14 reviewers ARE...**

**Lady of Myth and Legends**

**CharlieGreene**

**Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**So here's chapter 15!**

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**Chapter Fifteen**

**Third Person/Quasimodo's POV**

"Here! I've saved the best for last."

Quasimodo took one of Marianne's small, thin fingered hands in his large one as he led her onto one of the many balconies of the bell tower. He didn't look in front of him to see where he was going. He didn't need to, for he knew his home very well. Any other time he was walking around the bell tower, he would be looking where he was going. But this time, he couldn't seem to turn around at all. He couldn't take his eyes off of the beautiful young lady whose hand he was holding.

_Marianne Amour_. Even her name sounded beautiful, making his heart skip a beat whenever he heard it. The name brought back memories of the little golden haired girl who used to visit Notre Dame with her mother and sister, the pretty child who would sit on the steps of Notre Dame and talk to her friends about anything in the world. When he was a young boy, he would always look forward to seeing her, whether it be sitting on the steps of the cathedral or coming into the church to pray.

One of the first things he could remember was walking down the steps of the bell tower so that he could hear her voice and watch her as she prayed alongside her family members. Even then, when she was very young and had little knowledge of the world, she was beautiful in every way. And every time she was in his sight, he always had an overwhelming desire to leave the bell tower and befriend her.

"Her name is Marianne Amour," his master, Frollo, had told him when the young hunchback had asked him who the golden haired girl was. "The eldest daughter of Minister Amour. She's about your age, Quasimodo." Quickly, Frollo had put an angered look on his face, as if recalling a horrible trait about Marianne. "Her parents named her after a gypsy. _That_, boy, is a crime against _God_."

But the name Marianne didn't _sound_ like a crime against God. The name Marianne sounded like a name from God, the name of an angel. Whenever he heard someone speak her name, no matter who was speaking it, it sounded like music to his ears.

And Marianne's voice sounded even more like music. He could barely describe how it sounded. The closest he could get was saying that her voice sounded like an angel speaking in a calm, gentle voice, and that comparison still wasn't good enough. He had finally come to the conclusion that if there was a word, just one word, that could describe Marianne Amour's voice, it hadn't been invented yet.

Quasimodo led Marianne onto a balcony, which, he had decided one day, had the best view of Paris he could get from the bell tower. He watched her as a thin lipped smile grew on her face, some of her pearly white teeth showing as she took in the beautiful sight. The sun had just finished fully rising, and seemed to shine right onto her, the light hitting her just right.

"It's beautiful, Quasi," Marianne spoke in her beautiful, angelic voice. Her voice always made his heart skip a beat, and the feeling of her hand in his made a strange heat flood into his body. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

"I knew you'd like it," he said to her, surprised that he hadn't forgotten how to speak by now. He watched as her golden-brown eyes darted around the city, taking in every aspect of the view.

Personally, he thought that she was much prettier than the city before them. Her skin was a light, peachy color, her hair the color of pure gold. Her hair was one of the most peculiar things about her. It resembled a golden ocean that fell to her waist, clumps of her hair sticking out like waves in the sea.

Her eyes were very peculiar as well. They were a golden-brown color, and matched the exact shade of his bells. In fact, her eyes looked just like bells, seeming to constantly be ringing with life. But when he looked deep into her eyes, he sensed mischief, and a sense of dark playfulness enveloped Marianne. He figured it was nothing, but he couldn't help but wonder where that sense of mischief was coming from.

Marianne's smile grew, and she closed her eyes, the summer breeze rushing past her, making her hair fly out, looking like it was swimming on the wind. "Thank you," she spoke, her angelic voice filling his ears. Before he could ask her what she was thanking him for, she continued, as if she could read his mind, "For showing me this. I never would have taken the time to see these things if it weren't for you."

Quasimodo smiled, more of that weird heat rising into his cheeks as he took in more of the beauty that made Marianne who she was. "Thank _you_, Marianne."

She opened her eyes quickly, turning to him. "For what?" Marianne asked, leaning on the stone fence that went up to her waist. She leaned down, resting her elbows and upper arms on it, supporting the rest of her body. More heat rushed into Quasi's face. She looked a lot more attractive this way. "I'm, um, not really sure I understand you."

"For- for coming up here," he said to her, barely remembering how to speak. "If it weren't for you, I- well, I guess I'd be lonelier than I am now." He began ringing his hands, something he did often, a weird habit. He wasn't sure if Marianne had understood him, if she was able to

"_Mmh_," Marianne hummed, her ruby lips shut together tightly. There was a weird spark in her eyes, a strange combination of sadness and anger rising into her bell-colored irises. Her lips opened slowly, revealing the tips of her straight, white teeth, and asked, "I know what you're talking about."

Confusion entered his mind. "You _do_?" It was impossible that someone in this world could know his feelings, know the true meaning of his words. No one had ever truly understood him. Frollo, his master, had never understood him at all, taking very little time to get to know him and his world. The countless people who had come into the bell tower just to get a look at him, to catch just a glimpse of his monstrous appearance, never tried to understand him- they would never want to. Could this girl, this breathtakingly beautiful girl, be the first person in the world to understand him?

Marianne nodded slowly. "You don't have anyone," she said, her eyes closing tightly, looking as if she was trying to remember something. "Ever since you could remember, you've been lonely." Her eyelids came back up and she quickly met eyes with him. Again, that weird warmth came over him as Marianne stood up straight, another soft breeze coming past them, making Marianne's long, oceany hair fly out behind her. Everything seemed like it was in slow motion, as if the world itself had begun turning at a slow pace.

"My father used to tell me about you. He'd always say that being locked up in the bell tower was the worst thing for somebody, not being able to make friends or have any connection to society." She paused, taking a slow breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, like she was trying to find peace with herself, like she was trying to calm down. Suddenly, she smiled, a strange yet beautiful smile coming onto her face, her ruby lips curling upwards. "Now I feel stupid for not coming here sooner."

Quasimodo was about to open his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, her mouth opened and she spoke before he had the chance to. "It's funny, really, that I've been curious about you my whole life, and it's taken me this long to actually come up and meet you."

There was a long pause after her words. Quasi could feel his heart thumping in his throat. Did she really just say that? That she regretted not meeting him sooner? He couldn't believe it. Countless people had come up to the bell tower just to get a glimpse of his hideous face, to get the smallest look at his disgusting figure. Very recently, his master's beautiful niece, a girl he had been watching and admiring for his entire life, had run away in terror after seeing him. That, of course, had completely convinced him that there wasn't a soul in Paris that could possibly see him as anything but a monster.

That was until just half of an hour ago, when Marianne Amour had stepped back into his life.

After her family's death, the beautiful girl had completely disappeared from the face of the Earth for a few years. All Parisians were convinced that she was dead- even his master had told him the day after the fire that the entire Amour family (minus Antoinette's sister- what was her name again?- Nathalie? Yes, that was it) had been killed. But Quasimodo knew that Marianne had survived- he had seen her in the bell tower as the fire was going, he was sure that she was alive. But what could explain why she acted dead? Why did she just disappear, leaving everyone but her friend named Ciel and him knowing the truth?

A few years later, he spotted her in front of the cathedral. She had her hair up in a bun and was dressed casually, blending in with everyone else. Seeing her had caused a small knot that had been formed in his stomach many years ago to quickly untangle- she was alright! The very sight of Marianne Amour had caused him serious relief, the part of him believing that something had happened to her was calmed down. Of course, everyone around Marianne couldn't tell that she was the supposedly dead eldest daughter of Minister Adrien Amour. Everyone thought that she was just an average Parisian- except for him. He could spot those bell colored eyes anywhere, that gold hair and tall, thin figure that he could instantly recognize from miles away.

The thing he least expected was for her to come into the bell tower one day and to become the only person in the world that was able to see past his looks.

"Thank you, Marianne," he spoke, his voice shaking. How could she possibly be able to see past his looks? She was so beautiful, and he... He was a monster!

"You're welcome, Quasi," she said, flashing him a smile and then turning towards the view of Paris.

Quasi. He took a liking to that nickname.

"Well, I'm not _completely_ lonely, Marianne," he said after a few seconds of silence, trying to speak in a reassuring way. "I have my master, Judge-"

"_Judge Claude Frollo_," Marianne growled, rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth, "You mean, you've been raised by that complete and total _idiot_."

His eyes widened at her words. Did someone as sweet as Marianne Amour just call his master an idiot? His master, who had taken him in after being abandoned and given him an education, a home, and a life? Frollo didn't deserve to be called an idiot. Frollo was kind and good to him, he didn't deserve to be called something that foul.

"Frollo_ isn't_ an idiot, Marianne," Quasimodo began in a defensive yet calmed tone of voice, yet the shocked expression remained on his face. "He is kindhearted and-"

"Are you _kidding _me?!" Marianne exclaimed, making Quasimodo take a step back at the girl's sudden anger. A dark passion seemed to burn in Marianne's bell colored eyes, a sense of hate and fury. She began talking in an angry tone of voice, but not yelling. "What do you mean he's kindhearted? In fact, he is the opposite of that!"

She sighed, beginning to speak softer, as if she didn't want to hurt him by yelling. "Do you not know what he's been doing to gypsies, Quasimodo? Do you not recall how he's burnt countless innocent gypsies alive in public?"

Quasimodo could tell that she was trying to calm herself down, but it wasn't working at all. She was absolutely furious, her breath getting shorter and that weird, dark flame growing in her eyes, which seemed to be slowly fading from that unique bronze to a deep brown color. Her teeth were clenched, and her stare was terrifying. How is it possible that she had gone from calm to angry in a matter of seconds? But even through his slight fear, Quasimodo still felt it was his place to defend his master.

"Oh _no_, Marianne, Frollo knows who is innocent and who deserves to be killed," the hunchback explained, wanting to defend Frollo but at the same time turn the girl in front of him back into the Marianne he had seen a moment ago. "He's told me many times that gypsies are evil and cruel, and-"

"_Evil and cruel_!?"

Marianne's piercing scream rang in his ears, and her look turned into a look of absolute rage instead of plain fury. Her eyes seemed to be a deep brown, all bright color fading from her irises, and her hands were curled up into fists, shaking as if she was about to hit something. Her body trembled, as if it was about to explode out of too much anger. She looked predator-like and ready to defend her words. And in all honestly, Quasimodo was scared out of his mind.

"Gypsies are _not_ like that!" Marianne cried. "I know many gypsies, and I can tell you for a fact that none of them are evil, and none of them would do anything to harm anyone! My best friend is a gypsy, Quasimodo! She has been by my side since I was a little girl! She's comforted me, given me advice, and overall, I don't think I would have been able to survive without her in my life! And my other friend is a half-gypsy, the creation of a so called 'blood traitor' romance! She and her gypsy mother are not evil! In fact, they are the kindest people I know, and without them, I have no clue _where_ I'd be!"

By the end of her words, Marianne was breathing heavily, but her gaze never left his. Quasimodo had never been this shocked in his life. Had Marianne just yelled at him? This beautiful, sweet girl had just stressed her words in that manner? He absolutely couldn't believe that she'd yell at him- at anyone- especially right after they'd first met. He knew that she was just trying to defend gypsies and prove a point against him, but the way she had expressed her words left a small pang of disbelief in his chest.

Marianne turned to leave, her eyes slowly returning to their normal, unique color. Her hands were still at her sides, in fists, and most of the anger had faded from her face, but a small spark of anger still shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Quasimodo," she spoke, sounding apologetic, her body completely turned away from him, "but I can't be friends with someone who holds the opinion that all gypsies are evil."

Marianne walked away from Quasimodo, her steps quick and short. He followed her quietly, constantly opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. What could he say to her?

"_Marianne,_" he finally spoke once she had reached the door out of the bell tower.

Her hand firmly grasped over the doorknob, Marianne coolly turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his, and he felt another pang of guilt in his chest, as well as that strange warmth flooding his body. "I- I…" '_Say something to her_!' he thought, sighing, keeping his eyes on hers.

"I'm sorry." That was all that he could say to her.

Marianne's shoulder jerked away from the door, as if something was pulling her back into the bell tower- back to him. For a split second, Quasimodo thought that she would forgive him and stay, forgive him and remain his friend.

No sooner had he thought that than Marianne had opened the door, walking out of the bell tower- and out of his life.

Or so he _thought_.

* * *

**Whoa! What's going to happen between Quasimodo and Marianne? Find out in the next few chapters, when the SS Quarianne starts to set sail!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Dragon Sister Kelsi**


	16. Chapter 16

**Yay reviews! I love reviews! Reviews are my best friends. We have slumber parties and go shopping and do all these nice things with each other- they make me so happy!**

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**Well, here's chappie 16! Wow, we're getting far into this story, and there isn't any real Quarriane anywhere yet. I need to stop with the fillers...**

**HERE YOU GO!**

* * *

**(Marianne's POV)**

_Why did I leave? Why did I leave? Why did I leave?_ That was the question I asked myself as I was quickly putting up my hair, walking out into the warm, summer air. Why did I have to yell at him?! It was childish, completely uncalled for, and overall, stupid! It was as if the word 'GUILT' was spelled across my forehead in bold, red letters. I felt absolutely horrible having hurt him. And he probably though that it was his fault that I left! He must have been thinking that he was even more of a monster, having made me run away from him like that!

_Go apologize._

I stopped dead in my tracks, standing an inch away from the large doors of the cathedral. A sudden voice had echoed in my head- a familiar one, too. It sounded so sweet, so kind, so light and beautiful. I turned around, looking for anyone who could have said those words. No one was around me, save for a few Parisians that were praying.

_Go apologize, Marianne. Show him the love he has been missing for those long nineteen years._

An overwhelming depression came over my heart. Immediately, I sank to my knees, gritting my teeth, trying not to cry. It was my mother. My mother was speaking to me from heaven, trying desperately to get me to help Quasi, to show him something called 'love'- an emotion he probably thought that a "monster" like him was incapable of knowing.

I looked at the staircase leading to the bell tower. I could do it. I could go up there and apologize to him, heal the part of him that had been hurting his whole life.

I put a shaking hand over my chest and stood up, wiping my eyes with my free hand. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. "I can't," I muttered, shutting my eyes for a moment. I gasped, my throat backed up with tears, and I gave a choked-up sigh. "I-I_ can't_!"

I couldn't do it! I _couldn't_! Didn't my mother know that I had died years ago? Didn't she know that I was no longer capable of such big apologies? If so, why did she think I was able to do this?

I threw myself back onto the ground again, digging my nails into my palms- so hard, in fact, that blood began to seep out of my hands. That was one of my horrible habits. It was a way to create physical pain to counteract the emotional pain. And to be honest, I grew to enjoy that physical pain. I guess that explains the scars all over my palms, huh?

I pulled myself up off of the ground. _Get a hold of yourself, Marianne Amour,_ I_ thought. You are the Cloaked Thief. You are strong and bold. And he'll never be anything to you anymore. Not if he says things as cold as that_.

"I'm so sorry, mom," I muttered. And after doing a quick cross sign across my shoulders, chest, and forehead, I left the cathedral.

* * *

The air was warm against my skin, but, since that sadness still lingered over me, the short hairs on my arms stood on end and my heavy heart thumped at one beat per second. I didn't even stop and roll my eyes at Valentine Frollo, who was standing on the steps of Notre Dame singing her stupid 'Serenade of Lovers' song. I just kept walking past her.

Suddenly, in front of a dozen people (mostly boys in their late teens and early twenties), I heard her singing stop. "_You there_," I heard her light voice speak. It sounded very sweet, but beneath it lay something horrible- like poisoned candy. Yes, that was what her voice was like.

I stopped dead in my tracks, not turning around. Was she talking to me?

"Turn _around_, girl," ordered the young Frollo's poisoned voice. Slowly, I turned my body, and noticed that Valentine's gray, empty eyes were directly on me. The look on her face was curious, confused, and a bit angered. I froze, looking at her chin instead of her eyes. Every stare was a dagger in me, and so I avoided those eyes every time I passed her.

Valentine slowly walked up to me, the whole world beginning to turn slower as she stepped away from the crowd of men, whose eyes stayed on her as she walked. They were absolutely hypnotized by her appearance and voice, and I hated each of them for it.

Valentine and I were now inches apart. She examined me closely, her eyes darting from my bare feet to the tip of my head. I felt her icy breath on my neck, and I shivered. She was taller than I was- about three inches taller. Her breasts were pressed against my slightly flatter chest, and I hated the feeling. I tried to back away, but her icy cold breath fixed me to the spot, like my feet were made of stone and I couldn't pick them up.

Suddenly, Valentine's eyes widened, and she looked angry and shocked at the same time, as if she had seen something she didn't believe. At that moment, she muttered the two words I'd never wanted to hear anyone mutter in my life, the two words I had tried to avoid hearing the past seven years.

_"You survived."_

I turned around and ran as fast as I could away from Notre Dame, away from Quasimodo, away from Valentine Frollo. My surroundings whipped past me, a blur of colors, and my thoughts raced as fast as I ran. She knows, she knows, she knows! How did she figure it out? She figured it out! She figured it out! Oh, no, my cover's blown!

Why did I want to keep all of Paris convinced that I was dead? Maybe it was because of Nathalie, who always wanted to keep Marianne Amour dead and the Cloaked Thief alive. Maybe it was because of Ciel- since she was banished from the Court of Miracles, she had to lay low and not let herself be seen among the gypsies on the street, and I spent most of my time laying low with her. Or maybe it was because I rarely ever went out without my cloak on that I had convinced myself that letting the world know that I was alive was a bad thing.

Or maybe the death of my sister and parents had convinced me. Maybe I thought that the only way for them to truly stay in my memory was for me to act dead- was for me to act like I was with them. Maybe I thought that acting like I was with them would keep the connection between my family members and I.

_And I promise that they won't hurt you. Trust me, Noemi. If you trust me, then nothing will be bad in your life, and you'll live to be an old lady._

She had trusted me. And she had died. I lied to her.

I lied to her…

* * *

**And they say she's in the class a-team**  
**Stuck in her daydream**  
**Been this way since eighteen**  
**But lately**  
**Her face seems**  
**Slowly sinking, wasting**  
**Crumbling like pastries**

I opened the door of the room I shared with Ciel and found a few familiar figures with her. Sitting on my bed, reading from a piece of sheet music, was my boyfriend, Isaac Beau, and on the other bed, sitting up next to Ciel, was the famous La Esmeralda.

"Guess who decided to drop by?" Ciel asked me, nudging her older sister in the arm. Esmeralda and I exchanged a quick, girly hug.

"What's brought you here?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"Just here to check up on my little sister," Esmeralda said, glancing at Ciel, who rolled her eyes.

"Esmie, come on, I'm nineteen," the younger gypsy said, leaning back on the bed.

"You're still younger than I am, Cee," Esmeralda responded, ruffling Ciel's hair a bit. Ciel smiled.

"Cut it out, sissy, I'm a legal adult now!" she giggled. I could tell that she was trying to be serious, but her childish side was showing.

Esmeralda shook her head. "Ciel, you'll always be that shy little girl who danced in the streets with me," she said in a motherly tone of voice. She then turned to me. "How's everything been with you, Marianne?" Esmeralda asked. Her voice was beautiful, very charming. Everything about her was beautiful- her looks, her personality, her morals- oh, why couldn't I have beautiful morals like she did?

"Oh, alright," I said, thinking of the way I acted when Quasimodo called gypsies evil. I'd acted horribly, and I'd never be able to fix it. I was too much of a criminal to apologize, if that was the right way to put it.

My disappointment had been showing in my face. I realized this when Isaac leaned over and put a strong, comforting arm around me. "What's wrong, babe?" he asked, his rainy sounding voice making me shiver with excitement.

I realized that I couldn't tell him 'nothing', he'd see past that right away. "I don't want to talk about it," I whispered, shaking my head at him.

He nodded and rubbed my arm a bit, warmth flooding that area. It felt familiar, comforting, and it felt good. Really good.

"So, Esmeralda," I said in an attempt to change the subject, turning to the older gypsy. "You found yourself a man yet?"

Esmeralda just laughed at my words. "Marianne, to answer your question, not yet," she said through giggles. "I don't mean to brag, but I can tell that there are a few men who've fallen for me."

"Any of them hot?" Ciel laughed.

"Darkness comes in different forms!" I called to her, my chest panging with sadness over Quasi. Ciel just rolled her eyes.

"I don't focus on looks that much, Cee," Esmeralda replied. "But to answer your question, not really."

"Sucks," Ciel yawned, laying down on her bed. "Any kind ones?"

Esmeralda smiled. "Most of them," she replied. "Some of them will give me flowers, tell me how beautiful I am-"

"Marry one of them," I quickly said, smiling.

"Marianne, it depends if Esmie even likes them back," Ciel told me, rolling over so that she was laying on her stomach.

"These days, most people aren't even in love with the person they marry," I informed Ciel. I turned to her sister. "Esmie, you're around the age where people usually get married. If you can't find anyone you really love soon, you should marry one of the men who give you flowers and compliment you and stuff."

"That's what I've been thinking about doing, Marianne," Esmeralda replied, sighing. "I'm going to wait a couple years first. If I can't find anyone, then I think I'll do just that. _Or_ I can stay single."

"Yeah, it's not uncommon to find a gypsy woman without a husband," Ciel added.

"Personally," Isaac said, "I think that it's better to be single than to marry someone you really don't love. I know that in today's society, a woman can't be anyone without a man, but seriously, do you really want to spend your whole life with someone who you don't love?"

A silence hung in the air for a second or so. He was right.

"And _that_, girls, was Isaac Beau's opinion on society," I said, breaking the silence. I started clapping, and Ciel just laughed.

* * *

**What do you think? Kind of a filler... PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews, as I said earlier! Reviewers get a shout out in the beginning of the story, so please, REVIEW! Tell me what you like/dislike about the chapter, your overall thoughts about the story so far... Just review please!**

**Chapter 17 shall be up as soon as possible!**

**Byeeeeee! (If you watch "The Most Popular Girls In School" on YouTube you'll get that. The Van Beuren hi/bye thing. That show is my obsession... okay bye for realzies now (: )**

**~Kelsi**


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, so, um... This chapter is gonna be a bit, um... Sexual. I'll spell it right out for y'all- Isaac and Marianne are gonna be kissing, like, a lot. Like the tongue in mouth kind of stuff. Just be prepared. That stops like halfway through the chapter, so... Yeah. Where did it come from, you ask? Let me say that I've been watching a LOT of 'The Most Popular Girls in School' on YouTube (FUNNIEST SHOW EVER). "Is that a wine bottle in your hand?" "I'm sorry, doctor, it's 10 AM and you just told me I'm not pregnant." Go watch it, it's hilarious!**

**Anyway THANK Y'ALL FOR REVIEWING! We have many favorites and follows, and it's all very heartwarming. Really builds my self-esteem. Makes me very excited to continue work on this story. I'm up to chapter nineteen, and let me tell you. Chapters 18 and 19 are going to be EPIC. Like, there's a plot twist. This is one of the greatest fanfiction stories that I've ever written, and I can't wait to share the finished product with all of you!**

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**CharlieGreene**

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**Alright, let's get to the story. Can you guys read it and tell me if I should bump the rating up to M? Thanks :)**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Dark. Hot. Fast. Rough. Sweat. Body. Tongue. Mouth. Kissing.

This had better not go any further.

Isaac had me pinned down on the bed, and was basically attacking my mouth. Kissing violently. Tongue in mouth kind of stuff. This wasn't the first time that we'd done it. I'd lost my mouth-virginity (if that's what it's called) to Isaac about two years ago, when we were both insanely drunk and craving each other. This my third time doing this.

Isaac was a fast and rough kind of person, who seemed like he couldn't satisfy his craving for me no matter how much of my mouth his tongue explored. It was like he wanted more of me, and because of this I was always afraid that he'd try and have actual sex with me. I had told him countless times that I was going to die a virgin. I couldn't take the risk. I couldn't have children. We'd have to settle for making out, and that was it.

I, however, took my time going through his mouth with my tongue. Most of the time, because of Isaac's roughness, I couldn't even get my tongue out of my mouth. This was one of those times.

The first time we had done this, it felt incredibly good. The second time, not so much. Now, it just hurt. His tongue wasn't as soft as average, and since he was so fast and so rough… I couldn't breathe. There was no pleasure, just choking and hurt. I acted like I enjoyed it, but I was seriously about to get up and tell him that I couldn't do this anymore.

Isaac was a rough lover. He was always touching me, and I could easily tell that he wanted me to lose my virginity to him. But that wouldn't happen ever. I couldn't get pregnant. I couldn't have children. Even if I wanted to have kids, I couldn't. How could a thief raise children? And even if I give it up, how would I tell them that I was a former thief? They could never be able to look up to me.

And then, in that moment, my worst fear happened. He started pulling down my underwear with one hand, and with his other hand, started unhooking my bra.

_Oh God, help me._

Scared out of my mind, I kneed him in the stomach. It was the only thing I could think of. The urge to have sex was written all over this.

Isaac cried out, moving his entire body away from me, both hands over his stomach. I pulled up my underwear and fixed my bra. "What the _hell_ was that for?" he cried.

"Isaac, I've told you a million times, we're not having sex! _Ever_!" I replied, pulling my nightdress on. I was scared and furious, my heart beating at about a million times a second.

"_Marianne Amour_, we've been dating for a few years," Isaac said, coming closer to me. "I think that it's time that we-"

"_No_!" I said harshly, moving away from him. "Absolutely _not_."

"Marianne, you don't_ trust_ me?"

"Of course I trust you, Isaac, but-"

"If you _really_ trusted me, and if you _really_ loved me, you would do it!"

"Isaac, I _do_ love you-"

"Then _why_-?"

"_Get out_."

We stood in silence for a second, both of us taking in what I had just said. I was beyond angry and scared out of my mind. It was the only thing that I could think of saying.

_"Fine,_" Isaac spat at me, walking to the door in a haze of anger, and I felt a weird knot tying in my stomach. The knot that always formed when I felt guilty. I know that I had said the right thing, and that I needed to get him out of my room, but I still felt horrible. "I'll be in my room," he said through clenched teeth, and opened the door and walked away.

Isaac and I are the only couple that can go from having oral sex to kicking each other out of the room in a few seconds. It was incredible.

I lay down on my bed, pulling the sheets over me, and I thought. Every single night, before I drifted into sleep, I thought about a lot of things. Most of the time it was about thieving and my aunt, but sometimes it was about other things, like my friends and my relationship. Sometimes I thought so much that I didn't get any sleep at all.

That night was one of those nights when I thought for hours upon hours, and spent only half of the night sleeping.

Isaac and I weren't as romantic as we'd been years before. Over the past few months, I guess we had been getting sick of each other. I loved him, I really did, but I'd been questioning if he was the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Yes, he was a great person, but he wanted this relationship to go further than making out- which, I had said many times before, was our limit. We were never going to go past that- but he didn't listen.

He wanted to have sex. I guess he thought that having sex would strengthen our relationship, and show him that I really loved him. Couldn't he see that I did love him? Did he think that I didn't love him anymore, and needed sex to prove it? We could love each other without sex- or rough kissing, for that matter!

I groaned, rolling over. My thoughts pulled me back to the bell tower this afternoon. Quasimodo's light, comforting hand on my shoulder when he saw me crying. His touch was a whole new experience for me. A beautiful, new experience. And when he was showing me the bells, how he introduced them to me like they were people… I loved being up there with him. I could spend hours just listening to his bell-sounding voice.

Poor Quasi. He thought that he was a monster- well, it was what he'd been told growing up, so of course he'd believe it. But still! It was a horrible thing to think about himself. He was deformed yes, but that didn't mean he was ugly! That didn't mean that he was a monster! His looks didn't bother me one bit- he was actually pretty cute with his red hair and sky blue eyes. And he was the kindest person I had met. He was very sweet- a way better personality than Isaac (whose main goal was to have sex with me). And he seemed to like me a lot, smiling at me and telling me things about the bell tower.

Only after a few minutes of knowing Quasimodo, I knew that some kind of bond had formed between us. A bond that I'd broken by yelling at him.

I gave a choked up sigh and rolled over again, shutting my eyes. Was my screaming really necessary? It was what that sick bastard Frollo had told him- and Frollo was the one person in this world that he had ever come into contact with. Frollo had raised him and fed him poisonous lies- which, of course, Quasimodo believed. Come on, if your father told you that someone was evil, you'd believe it, right? So Frollo kept feeding Quasimodo poisonous lies, that Quasi had no clue were poison- kind of like poisoned candy. Yeah, that was it. Frollo was feeding Quasimodo poisoned candy. So of course Quasimodo thought that gypsies were evil!

Come to think of it, Frollo and Nathalie were a lot alike. Nathalie wanted power, riches, and believed that gypsies were evil. Exactly like Frollo. I gave a nervous chuckle. They'd be a cute couple. A cute, evil couple.

Speaking of Nathalie, I wondered why she wanted me to find Little Sophia? What did she want it for? Quasimodo had shown me all of the bells, and I remember him pointing out Little Sophia to me. The smallest bell. She was very pretty. Why did Nathalie need her?

I'd have to go speak to Nathalie first thing tomorrow.

* * *

"_There_ you are, pet," Nathalie said as soon as I walked into the door. "What happened? Did you spend the night in Notre Dame?"

"I spent the afternoon, auntie," I replied, sitting down on the couch. "Then I went back to the Haven for the night."

Nathalie nodded. She was sewing the top of what looked like a dress- and a pretty one, too. There was a lot of lace on it, and a pretty, sea blue fabric was used. From what I could tell, there weren't any sleeves, and it was strapless- just the way I liked my outfits. "Um, auntie, is that a dress for me?" I asked. Nathalie made me most of my outfits, but this one was way more beautiful than anything that she'd made for me. It was magnificent. I couldn't wait to see the finished product.

Nathalie nodded. "It's very beautiful, isn't it, pet?" she asked me, showing me what she'd done so far. She was almost finished with the top, which would go down to my waist, and was going to be working on the skirt soon. "I think that it's my best work."

"Oh, it is, auntie," I said, smiling. Such a beautiful fabric. "Um, auntie, can I speak to you about something?"

"Yes, pet, go ahead, but make it quick," she replied, focusing on her dress instead of me.

I sighed. "Isaac and I were, um, making out last night," I admitted. Aunt Nathalie looked up, her eyes widened. _That_ got her attention. "And, um, he started taking off my underwear-"

"Marianne, please tell me that you didn't lose your virginity!" Nathalie said, standing up and putting her hands on my shoulders. "You're too young to do such a thing!"

"Auntie, I threw him out of my room before he could do anything else to me!" I replied.

Nathalie let out a long breath. "Pet, please, don't scare me like that ever _again_!" she exclaimed, turning away and sitting back down in her chair.

I nodded. "I _promise_, auntie, I'm dying a virgin."

Nathalie looked at me and nodded. "Yes, that would be the best thing for someone like you to do."

I knew what she was talking about. Me being a thief and all. "Auntie, this is a really awkward question, but are you a virgin?"

Auntie gave me a short stare. "Barely, Marianne, barely," she finally replied, a bit uncomfortable with the question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, when I was around your age, give or take a few years, I had the most incredible boyfriend," Nathalie replied, pushing the dress aside and focusing on me. I sat down on the couch across from her. "You may know him as Judge Claude Frollo-"

"What!? You two were a couple?"

"For many years, yes. We met at the Festival of Fools. His father, who was the minister of justice before him, was there, and so was he. Grandma Noemi, your mother, and I were there as well. Claude and I started talking, and I realized that he was just like me in many ways. Antoinette even told me once that he was like a male version of myself."

_'No surprise there,'_ I thought. "And when did you two start dating?"

"Well, we went on many dates together before we actually became a couple. He took me on a walk by the Seine river, and asked me to be his girlfriend on that date. Very romantic of him." I could see that there was a dreamy look in her eyes, and I could tell that she had really loved him. "We were a couple for a few years. I always told him that we didn't need to have sex, but he wanted to do it anyway. I told him so many times that we wouldn't, but that didn't stop him. One night, when we were laying in bed together… He started taking off my underwear."

A teenage Frollo and a teenage Nathalie laying in bed together. When I tried to picture it, all I could see was the current Frollo and Nathalie, with their white-gray hair, wrinkled skin… It was a disgusting thought.

"I broke up with him that night. It was very hard for me to do, but my friends and family told me that I had made the right choice."

"So are you saying that I should break up with Isaac?"

"Oh heavens no, Marianne!" Nathalie exclaimed. "If you break up with him, you'll have lost all your chances of getting married! He'll be the perfect nephew-in-law! He's a treasure, Marianne. Never let him out of your life, do you hear me?"

I was starting to think that Nathalie liked Isaac more than she liked me.

I nodded. "Yes, auntie, whatever you say."

A part of me knew that I'd have to let Isaac go sooner or later, no matter what Nathalie thought.

"Now, pet, did you find the location of Little Sophia?" Nathalie asked, putting the dress down and taking a piece of paper and a quill dipped in ink off of the table in front of her. I nodded. "Good, pet, very good." God, I hated when she called me that. Pet, pet, pet. I wasn't a dog! I wasn't a cat! I wasn't an animal! I was a human! But sometimes, I thought that I was being treated like a pet by her. She had full control of me. Her word was my command. "Go steal this, pet." "Go steal that, pet." And I'd do it. Like I was a dog and she was my mistress. Well, she was my mistress- but that wasn't the point at all.

"Draw out the bell tower for me, Marianne," Nathalie ordered, handing me the quill and paper. "All of it. And draw a circle around Little Sophia."

"What?"

"You heard me. Draw out the bell tower."

I paused for a second, realizing that she was planning on doing something in the bell tower, and needed a map of it to navigate her way around. She was going to break into the bell tower- and probably steal Little Sophia. I couldn't let that happen! I knew how precious each bell was to Quasimodo. I hadn't been in the bell tower for very long, but I was there long enough to figure out that the bells were like children to Quasi. He'd be heartbroken if he found out that one of his children were gone.

Then I started having other thoughts. How would Nathalie be able to get a bell out of Notre Dame without being seen? I mean, it was a bell- it was big, even if it was the smallest bell. She must have been planning on doing something else with it. But what? Either way, I couldn't put Quasimodo and his bells in danger.

_"No."_

* * *

**Yeah, I know, it was short, BUT the next chapter is long! Probably one of the longest chapters I've written, so stay tuned for chapter eighteen! PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! Reviews keep me going! If I get, like, no reviews, I'll stop writing until I get reviews. So please, write a review! Please! PLEASE!**

**And tell me if I should bump the rating up to M. I mean, I think I should, but I just want to be sure.**

**BYEEEEE!**

**~Dragon Sister Kelsi**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Sorry I took so long to update. I was at camp all last week...**

**Not much to say here. THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS!:**

**Guest**

**Lady of Myth and Legends**

**CharlieGreene**

**Here's le chapter!**

* * *

This wasn't the first time that I'd denied Nathalie. I'd told her multiple times before that I wouldn't do what she ordered me to, but I always ended up doing it anyway. But this- I wouldn't do it, no matter what she ordered me to. I couldn't put my friend in danger- or ex-friend.

"Alright, pet," Nathalie said, sitting down next to me and crossing her legs. "It's your choice. But I would think that a murderer like you would love to help me with this crime."

I stiffened at the sound of that. Yes, I was a murderer. I'd killed that innocent woman a few years ago, when I only meant to humiliate Valentine. It was an accident, but I still thought of myself as a murderer. A sick murderer.

"Auntie, please, it was an accident!" I said, getting choked up at the thought of it.

"Oh, I'm not talking about her, Marianne," Nathalie said, looking into my eyes.

Oh God.

"I killed someone else?" I asked in disbelief. No. No, no, no, this was not happening-

"Yes."

My eyes widened. Sure, I stole things, I was a thief- but I'd never go so far as to kill anyone! I wasn't that kind of person! What had I done?

"What happened! Tell me!"

"Only after you finish the drawing of the bell tower."

I sighed, looking down at the paper. I didn't want to put Quasimodo in danger- but I wanted to know the truth even more.

And so, I started sketching.

* * *

It was my family.

"What!?" I cried as soon as I heard it. Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? A tight knot formed in my stomach and refused to untangle. The world had stopped spinning. Everything was frozen in this ice of confusion and pain.

"It's true, pet," she replied, a depressed frown on her face. "You are the one responsible for their deaths."

"But- but- Auntie, how?" My entire body was burning with heat, and I was shaking all over. I started to get a little dizzy, and felt like I was going to throw up. This was how my body dealt with horrible news. And this news was beyond horrible. How could I have killed my family? The fire killed them, not me!

"The other day, Marianne, I explored what was left of the house," Nathalie began, sadness showing on her face. Oh God, she was serious! "And I went into Noemi's room. There was a pile of wax on the floor, the same color as the candle that had been on Noemi's dresser that night."

On La Nuit De La Dark Fire, Ciel and I had snuck out of the house through Noemi's room. We'd gone through the window, and to get to the window we had to stand on the dresser, where there was a lit candle.

I gasped, but no air came into my lungs. It all came back to me. I helped Ciel out of the window, and then got on the dresser myself. With my foot, I'd pushed against something to help myself get out of the house.

_I knocked over the candle._

_The candle was lit._

_The floor caught on fire from the candle._

_The fire spread._

_I was the one who knocked over the candle._

_I was the one who killed my family._

"Auntie, no!" I cried. I couldn't breathe. My entire body was shaking. My heart stopped beating completely. A sharp pain started rising in my chest, like someone had slowly sunk a knife into me. Overwhelming pain and sadness came down on me, and it felt like a weight was being lowered onto my stomach. All I could feel was darkness and depression. It felt like I was realizing that my family was dead all over again, only this time, my feelings were more enhanced and real.

"I'm afraid it's true, my dear," Nathalie said to me, her head lowered a bit, glassy emerald eyes staring at me. For the first time in years, she looked saddened. Her hair seemed to lose its blue glow, and her perfect messy bun sank down a bit. She was hunched over a bit, and overall it looked like a gigantic black rain cloud had come over her. Nathalie shook her head at me, and the way her face was positioned made me think that she was going to start crying at any moment.

Either she was very good at acting, or she was incredibly disappointed in me.

The tears wouldn't come. Why weren't the tears coming yet? I was breathing very loudly and shallowly, although it felt like I wasn't breathing at all. I breathed this way when I was crying, the kind of crying where you make all these animal noises and can't control your tears. The pain searing in my chest and stomach was unbearable, and all I could think about was them. Daddy's strong words while he was preaching. Mommy's soft smile. Noemi's sweet, beautiful laugh. I had had the perfect family, the family that anyone else would be dreaming of. And I had thrown that all away by killing them.

Three more deaths that I had been responsible for. That was four people that I had killed in my entire life. Four people. No wonder I was a thief. No wonder my life was such a wreck. God was punishing me for killing them. Four innocent people. Three of them were the people in the world that I loved the most.

I was a dirty murderer, and I was going to hell.

I stood up, surprised that I was able to stand. I was shaking so hard and hurting so much that I was barely able to move, let alone keep my balance. "I…I…" I couldn't even form words. The lump in my throat seemed to block off my vocal cords from the rest of my mouth, and keep me from breathing. Without thinking, I put on my cloak, which was crumpled up in a heap on the couch, and sped out the door into the streets of Paris.

* * *

**Third Person/Nathalie's POV**

Nathalie Fleur made sure that her niece was completely out of sight before standing up and getting rid of the sad aura around her. She straightened herself up, fixed her hair, and gave a cunning smile. She did feel bad for having hurt Marianne- but the Cloaked Thief would have had to learn the truth sooner or later.

Nathalie looked down at the piece of paper that was on her lap, and then laughed, realizing what she had in front of her. It was a map of the bell tower! She could hardly contain her excitement and continued laughing as she examined the map more. It was perfectly sketched out, the way she had imagined that Marianne would draw it. Nathalie crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair, her feet resting on the coffee table in front of her. She hadn't gotten into this position since she was in her thirties, and it felt good. Very good.

This paper was exactly what she needed, and she couldn't stop laughing of excitement.

Her plan was coming together perfectly. After the next phase was executed, and after Marianne and her friends succeeded (if they failed, they could always try again- the next part of the plan could be redone if failed), she would have the blueprints for the perfect crown.

And every queen needed a crown, right?

Domination. That was what Nathalie was after- domination. The very last step of the plan would allow her to go from an average seamstress to a powerful ruler in only one night.

She sighed, shaking her head, her laughter going down. After all of this had succeeded, he would have to love her. After all, he was after power as well, right?

The soft knocking on her door caused her to snap out of her fantasy, but a sly smile remained on her face. "Come in!" she called, already knowing who was at her door.

The door opened, and a beautiful girl walked into the house. She had long, silky, midnight black hair; moon gray eyes; peachy colored skin; slender, red lips; and had the perfect body shape- small waist, large hips, and big breasts.

"Ah, Valentine, my dear," Nathalie said to the gorgeous young lady as she shut the door behind her and made sure that it was locked. "Have you done exactly what I told you to?"

"Yes, Nathalie, I have," the young Frollo said, tilting her head to the side a bit. "Do you have the map of the bell tower?"

Nathalie nodded, a chuckle escaping from her lips as she held up the sketch of the bell tower of Notre Dame. "It's perfect!" she said, allowing herself to laugh more.

"Oh, I can't wait for the day when it's all over, when you and Marianne have succeeded!" Valentine said, smiling, as she sat cross-legged on the couch. "The problem is, I don't think that my uncle would be too thrilled to have The Cloaked Thief as his niece."

Nathalie froze, her smile and laughter fading. "But how did you possibly find out?" she said softly, in a tone of disbelief. "I- I hid her from the world! How-?"

"Never mind how I found out," Valentine said, crossing her legs, a look of anger and displeasure on her face. "Why didn't you tell me? And why have you been hiding her for the past seven years?"

Nathalie sighed. "Valentine, make yourself comfortable. It's a long story."

* * *

**Marianne's POV**

I ran as fast as I could through the streets of Paris, knocking over carts of food, and even a few people. I could barely see where I was going- the tears had started to spill silently, and were blurring my vision almost completely. Residents were screaming as I ran past. "The Cloaked Thief! The Cloaked Thief! Somebody get him, before he escapes!" But I could barely hear them, and when the guards started chasing me, I didn't even acknowledge that they were there. All I could hear and feel was the violent, throbbing displeasure that was my heartbeat. Each beat sent a new wave of pain through me. How I was able to stand, let alone run faster than I ever had in my life, I had no idea.

All I was thinking about was the terrible fact that I had killed the three people in this world that truly loved me. Well, sure, I had Ciel and my other friends, but my parents and sister had loved me since birth, and shown me the warm, beautiful love that only family can give. And now it was over. Gone. Dead. And it was all my fault.

The people of Paris were screaming insults at me as I ran past them. "Leave us alone, you rotten bastard!" "You son of a bitch, stop your games!" "Get the thief, guards, get him!" They thought that I was a boy. There are a lot more insults that they could have used if they had known that I was a girl. But I couldn't care less about the insults. I was used to it. After all, all of it was true. I was a rotten person, having killed four people in a mere nineteen years, three of which were the people who had shown me the most love. And the knowledge that I was the one who caused their deaths was violently ripping my soul apart. I had never felt more dead inside than I did at that exact moment. The fire took away the real Marianne Amour. How painful it was to realize that I started that fire.

I guess you can say that I'd killed five people in nineteen years.

I was lifeless. Everything was gone. And I had only myself to blame for that.

"Stop, thief!" The cold, deep voice caused my eyes to widen, but I didn't stop running. It was the only thing that I could make out through my pain. The voice of the wicked Judge Claude Frollo, always sending a slight shiver up my spine. I heard the whinny of that dark coated creature that he calls a horse, and then galloping feet. Oh God. I didn't know if I'd be able to outrun a horse.

"Get him, Judge!" "Kill that bastard, Frollo!" "The minister of justice will catch you, you dirty thief!" I ran as fast as I could, and I was tired as hell. I was choking on my own tears, basically unable to breathe, and the sharp pain in my chest didn't help either. But I kept running. Notre Dame cathedral was very close. I could get there and claim sanctuary. Then I'd be safe.

Frollo was closing in on me now. The galloping of his horse sounded like it was right next to me. I didn't dare look up. I had to get into the cathedral as soon as I could. It was only a few yards ahead of me, I'd easily be able to make it. The adrenaline was rushing through my body, my heart pumping so fast that I thought it was going to explode.

And that was when I saw them- the eyes of Notre Dame.

A thousand memories flashed through my mind. My father telling Noemi and I about the eyes. How they see everything you do. How they're like God's messengers. The eyes had seen all the crimes I had committed, all the sins that I had sinned. They'd been watching me.

I couldn't take it anymore. The pain was so unbearable that I lost all strength in my body. My feet gave out and I collapsed, just a few feet from Notre Dame. The ground was dirty and unpleasant, but I was too weak to get up. The tears blurred my vision completely, the pain that seared across my body was absolutely horrible, and the burden I had begun to carry was weighing me down.

A hard pair of hands grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me up so that I was standing. My identity was about to be revealed. I was about to be captured, maybe even killed! Oh, no no no no no-

"There's nowhere for you to run now, thief!" the baritone voice of Judge Claude Frollo exclaimed. "Let's see who the man behind the cloak is."

And he lifted my hood up, revealing my face to the crowd that had gathered around us.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNNNN! What will happen next? Please read and review!**

**~Kelsi**


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